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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702818">Angrezni</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_kangaroo/pseuds/s_kangaroo'>s_kangaroo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agent Carter (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Author will update tags as she goes along, Death, F/M, Torture, World War II, not historically accurate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:55:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_kangaroo/pseuds/s_kangaroo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy's journey from a naive, young woman into the Director of SHIELD.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. CHAPTER ONE: MAY 1939: The Mission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! I'm new to this, so please be kind. This story's name is Angrezni, which in Hindi means "Englishwoman." As an Indian-American, I thought it sounded pretty, and I spent too long to find a story title. </p><p>Lemme tell you something real quick. My main ship is Peggy/Steve, but my even bigger ship is Peggy/being a badass. So here is Peggy, on the road to become a queen. In this chapter, Peggy is about 18 years old. </p><p>Btw: I am not from England. However, since I am writing about someone that is from England, all my small British quips are from what I know from Harry Potter :).</p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>P.S. thanks to @hmmm-what-am-i-doing for editing!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bitter England air whispers across Peggy’s neck and bare arms, blowing from the open windows, brushing the tangled heap of curls away from her face. </p><p>But nothing matters except for this mission. She owes it to all her friends.</p><p>She’s alone. And she cannot mess up.</p><p>Her mouth and nose are covered by a mask, to make sure no one recognizes her. And if she does her job right, she could get out unscathed, leaving the dangers in this dingy, old house. </p><p>This is what she is made for; to be the justice and light in the darkness. </p><p>Peggy makes her way down the hall; taking great care to step quietly and slowly, trying to not upset any floorboards. </p><p>Reaching for the wine cupboard in the dreary kitchen, Peggy’s hyperactive imagination springs into action and she imagines a spotlight, shining from the heavens, illuminating the package that sits there. </p><p><em> Her mission. </em> </p><p>Peggy reaches in, and pulls out the glass bottle full of whiskey. </p><p>Target acquired. </p><p>In her concentration, she doesn’t register the creak of footsteps behind her. </p><p>“WHAT IN THE BLOODY NAME OF MARY AND JOSEPH <em> is going on in here </em>?”</p><p>Peggy whirls around. There stands her headmaster in a very small robe, his beady eyes popping out of his sockets. </p><p>“Oh,” she says, rather eloquently. Then, Peggy makes the most logical decision: she takes off.</p><p>The young Miss Carter races toward the back door, with her Headmaster hot on her heels. All she has to do is get past the gate and onto the road. Peggy must have a good few meters in front of her headmaster, and once she’s out of the gate, she is free to scamper toward the dorms. </p><p>By some miracle, or the fact that she’s young, Peggy manages to escape, and somewhat stumbles her way to the main student building. She can hear the party in full swing from her place downstairs, with the record player blaring out ear splitting music, the loud saxophone and piano blending together in an upbeat melody. Swinging her head and moving her hands, she makes her way into the party room, while still keeping a hand rested on the bag that holds her package. </p><p>Peggy still can’t believe she is about to graduate. It only seems like a moment ago when she was stepping into this building with her entire future ahead of her. As she makes her way through the dark, dim hall, still dancing, the memorable photos of the college’s alumni stare back at her, frowning as if disappointed with Peggy’s antics.</p><p><em> Well, </em> Peggy thinks petulantly, <em> they were probably very boring people if they chose to frown in their pictures. </em> At the end of the hall is the common room, where just last week the girls sat and panicked about their finals. Now it's filled with light, music thumping through the floor. From what Peggy can see, apparently a few boys had made their way into the building and were now holding bottles of booze, letting the music sweep their feet with the girls. </p><p>Peggy breaks out in a grin and skips her way into the room, throwing open the wooden doors that didn’t allow the school’s shadows to haunt this place, keeping her safe from the world that lay at bay. </p><p>Upon seeing Peggy burst into the room, her friends start cheering from their spot settled on the ancient plush sofas. </p><p>“Peggy! We thought you’d be dead!” Elaine giggles, snorting champagne out of her nose. </p><p>Elaine McClaister was one of the oldest friends Peggy had. They weren’t necessarily close, but she was loyal and kind, which Peggy appreciated very much. Beside her sits Peggy’s actual best friend, Evelyn. Prettier and two years older than Peggy, she had long blonde hair that was <em>naturally curly, the lucky bastard.</em> </p><p>Peggy reckons Evelyn could have caught a few guys tonight, but her face was currently buried in the pillows, snoring.</p><p>Peggy turns around with a huff, annoyed that her friends were being absolutely ungrateful for the completion of their heist - the same one they’ve been planning for months on end. </p><p>Zeroing on the mahogany tables in the middle of the room; the same one she remembers going over differential equations with Helen, she gets an idea. </p><p>Keeping a seemingly innocent expression on her face and nodding her head along to the music, Peggy climbs on the table, determined to get some attention. Shoving a few stray books aside, and kicking the decorative plant to the floor, she stands to her full height on the dining table. </p><p>“OI, YOU LOT! I NEED YOUR ATTENTION!” she booms, quieting everyone. The music’s volume  lowers, and Peggy clears her throat dramatically. </p><p>Everyone turns and looks at Peggy, standing on the table, hands on hips, grinning devilishly</p><p>Throwing up her hands, she yells, “LOOK AT WHAT I NICKED FROM THE HEADMASTER’S HOME!” Peggy yanks the bottle of booze from her bag and waves it around, smiling so widely it hurt to stretch her lips any further, but she felt so victorious! </p><p>Cheers erupt from all corners of the room. Evelyn has taken her head out of the pillows and is grinning stupidly, probably because she knows the alcohol will be shared with her. The piece of shit. <em> And </em> after ditching her. </p><p>“AND, THAT’S NOT ALL!” Shaking with uncontrollable excitement and grinning like an absolute lunatic, Peggy takes out a red underwear piece from her bag and waves frantically out like a flag. “THE HEADMASTER’S MISSUS’ UNDERTHINGS!”</p><p>By now, the entire room is in chaos. A smirk flits across Peggy’s face as she sees the mess she has caused. The boys in the back are yelling, and the girls are looking horrified, but cheering at the prospect of thwarting the house of Headmaster Portley. </p><p>The randy boys in the back start cheering, “CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!”</p><p>She flicks the cap off the glass bottle.<br/><br/>“HEADMASTER PORTLEY!” she booms, her voice shaking, “IS A DICTATOR! HE IS NOT THE BOSS OF US! HE CANNOT TELL US WHERE TO GO AND WHAT TO DO.”</p><p>Her classmates cheer, raising their glasses in agreement.</p><p>Peggy continues, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath. She reckons her face is mighty red by now. “THIS YEAR HAS BEEN TAKEN OVER BY HIS <em> FACIST </em> REGIME! WE MUST FIGHT BACK!”</p><p>With that speech, she takes the bottle of whiskey, brings it to her lips with the roar of her classmates cheering her on. </p><p>The alcohol is dripping down her chin in her haste, and her dress is dirty with mud, but she doesn't care by a long shot. </p><p>Not bad for a graduation party.</p><p>***</p><p>“Wake up you tosspot! Come on, we have to graduate!”</p><p>Peggy emerges from the blankets and blinks as the harsh sunlight next to her bedroom window hits her eyes.</p><p>“What the hell, Evelyn?” Peggy grumbles, burrowing under her warm blanket, impatiently wiping away the pool of drool on her cheek. </p><p>“Did you forget?” Evelyn demands.</p><p>“Oh for heaven’s sake, did Peggy forget?” Helen says, her face buried in her suitcase. “Chop chop, love, wake up!” She straightens up, extending her arms and proclaiming rather dramatically, “Let’s get our well earned diplomas and <em> get out of here </em>.”</p><p>The girls from Peggy’s dorm were flitting around, looking way too energetic for six in the morning. Peggy herself had a brilliant headache, probably because of the late night drinking that she partook in hours after the party took place. Blinking her eyes furiously, her dorm room comes into focus, looking more and more empty as her mates hurriedly pack away their stuff into suitcases and bags. Peggy lays in bed, her pillows and blankets bunched up to create a nice warm cocoon, and watches the chaos unfold.</p><p>“Bloody hell, Peggy, get up!” Evelyn, ever the mother-friend, demands from below her bed. Peggy, looking over her comforter, saw Evelyn trying to get all of her trash out from where she chucked it after every term and never bothered to look again.</p><p>Peggy grumbles and sits up properly. “I’m up! Do you see my eyes open? I’m up.”</p><p>“We get your fat arse out of bed,” Elaine mutters, wringing her hands, and pacing the room in desperation. “Our parents are coming in half an hour, and they <em> cannot </em> see the state we're in!”</p><p>“Top of the morning to you too,” Peggy grumbles, and groans as she gets up and steps into the bathroom, yawning quietly to herself. It pays to be prepared. All she has to do is put the rest of her bedding in a bag, make it look like she isn't completely hungover, and the rest of the day would be brilliant. </p><p>“I thought you could hold your liquor?” Helen asks, furrowing her brow as she gathers her multitude of shoes in her arms, after Peggy had banged her forehead on the bathroom wall loudly. </p><p>“I drank more than you, idiot.” Peggy snarks back. With a huff, she pulls out her dress and lays it on her bed nicely, smoothing out the wrinkles with her hands. It was a simple lilac dress, with lilies sewed onto the skirt, courtesy of her grandmother. Twisting her mouth, Peggy marches into her bathroom, hoping to make herself somewhat presentable for the graduation ceremony in two hours. </p><p>***</p><p>Helen, Elaine, Evelyn, and Peggy walk down the drab hallways, clutching their dirty laundry and lugging their suitcases, making their way to the downstairs garden, where their parents are waiting in the grass. And then, Peggy realizes with a pang, she’ll miss this place. She’ll miss the cold classrooms, and the dusty library, with it’s annoying leak in the corner of the room. She’ll miss her teachers, the ones with hard angles and disappointment gracing their faces. </p><p>She’ll miss going out with her friends. Peggy remembers dragging everyone to dance clubs every Saturday, and dancing until her feet hurt. She’ll miss the freedom that came from living in this place for two whole years. </p><p>Peggy finally sees her mum and dad standing at the end of the garden. Her mother is standing ever-so-classy in her newest dress, probably to impress all the other mothers who also came to collect their daughters. Her father, on the other hand, looks like he just woke up from a nap, with his eyes blinking rapidly, and his hand coming up to stifle a yawn, yet his suit is immaculately pressed; Peggy suspects it’s her mother’s doing. </p><p>Peggy waves a small goodbye to her friends and walks over to her parents.</p><p>“Margaret! Oh, you look so thin!” Her mother grabs a hold of her, smoothing the sleeves of her dress down her arms. “Were you eating properly? And your hair,” she says, horrified, as she sweeps a piece of hair out of Peggy’s face, “Goodness gracious, you have so many accessories, couldn’t you use one today?”</p><p>Overlooking her mother, Peggy turns to her father instead, who has a small pleased smile on his face. He winks at her. Peggy smiles back. </p><p>Behind Peggy, one of the school’s teachers, Mrs. Torrance calls for her.  </p><p>“Miss Carter, Headmaster Portley has called for you.”</p><p>
  <em> Damn. </em>
</p><p>Amanda looks at her daughter, a disapproving frown appearing on her face. “What did you do this time?”</p><p>“Nothing!” Peggy hurriedly protests. In the corner of her eye, she can see Helen give her an obvious concerned look. Whatever, Peggy thinks. She’ll deal with whatever comes her way.</p><p>Shaking her head, Mum proclaims, “Your father and I’ll go and put your suitcase in the car.”</p><p>“Follow me,” Mrs. Torrance says, and Peggy schools her features, walking confidently behind her as they make their way up towards the east tower. </p><p>The University of Girls in Camberley was once a small castle to a lord back in the 1700s. It had just gathered dust over the years, until the 1850s, when a few women got together to create a higher learning facility for their peers. Judging from the draperies and accessories, that look like they’d been there for decades, Peggy thinks the style hasn't changed much from the 1700s. The place smells really old too. </p><p>They finally reach the Headmaster's office. Mrs. Torrance leaves, and Peggy is left alone to brave the waters. She knocks on the hardwood door.</p><p>“Come in,” a rough voice announces.  </p><p>Peggy pushes the heavy door open. Compared to the rest of the castle, the Headmaster’s office looks very modern, with the paint a classy white, compared to the ugly reds and browns the students were subjected to. Outside, the sun is shining brightly; a testament to the upcoming summer and brighter days to come, filled with laughter and happiness. </p><p>She can’t wait. </p><p>“Sir?” Peggy asks, tentatively, steeling herself. She cannot believe she has to see the Headmaster on her last day - mostly, she can’t believe she got caught. But that’s in the past now.   </p><p>“Ah! Miss Carter, come in, come in! Take a seat.” Headmaster Portley ushers her in, looking like he was pacing the room, with his hands clasping each other behind his back. </p><p>His stupid mustache is jumping under his pink nose, and the poor buttons on his shirt look like they’re about to pop off.</p><p>Peggy takes a seat, her stomach already doing flips. Headmaster Portley has never been this nice to her. Probably because it’ll be her last punishment. She’s always done something stupid, brought to the Headmaster’s room, and been yelled at. Peggy decides that it's the perks of being a Carter. Mischief just runs in their blood. </p><p>Headmaster Portley claps his fat, meaty hands together and opens his mouth. Peggy can smell the onion breath from where she's sitting. Gross. People who meet the school’s headmaster tend to stand at least a yard away. Lucky for them, because Peggy feels like she might choke right now. Portley’s stupid bald spot is sweating too, gleaming under the English sun, and Peggy leans back as politely as she can. </p><p>“I must say, Miss Carter, I did not expect such a heist to be pulled off right before graduation.”</p><p>Peggy presses her lips tightly together, hiding a grin. </p><p>Headmaster Portly raises his chin, “I thought a higher education should have put a stop to all of your nonsensical escapades.”</p><p>Portely pauses to cough roughly, causing Peggy to wince. She’d rather not be here, thank you very much. “Miss Carter, let me make this clear, this type of behavior is completely unacceptable. It is only through the goodness of my heart that I’m allowing you to-”</p><p>Peggy snorts. Portely’s hands are tied. She knows for a fact that there is nothing that will stop her from getting her degree.  </p><p>The door opens, cutting off Headmaster Portley’s rant. “Headmaster?”</p><p>A middle-aged blonde woman stands in the doorway, holding the door open, a petulant smile on her face. Peggy grins back, and moves to stand up.</p><p>“Headmaster, may I borrow Miss Carter for a moment?”</p><p>Peggy, who is already halfway out of her chair, looks innocently at Mr. Portley’s face, who seems to be turning redder than ever. “Madam Elena,” he says gruffly, “I was just telling off Miss Carter-”</p><p>“Oh, Miss Carter is terribly sorry for that, isn’t she?” the woman, Madam Elena, interrupts, raising her eyebrows. “I’m sure she meant no harm. I mean, it’s the girl’s graduation. When else will she get another time to fool off?” Madam Elena looks amused as she asks the Headmaster. </p><p>“Er-”</p><p>“I’m sure Miss Carter will write an apology letter to those who have been harmed by her light prank.”</p><p>“<em> I was the one harmed- </em>” Headmaster Portly says hurriedly, his comical mustache rippling, and Peggy smothers a giggle. </p><p>Madam Elena doesn’t stand and wait. She sets off out of the room. “Come along Miss Carter.”</p><p>Peggy leaps out of her seat, and shooting her Headmaster a sheepish smile, scampers out of the room, closely following Madam Elena. </p><p>When Peggy starts laughing nervously,  Madam Elena shakes her head, laughing along.</p><p>“So,” Peggy asks, her full attention focused on her teacher; all the excitement and laughter fading away to nervousness. </p><p>“So?” Madam Elena repeats, faux confusion in her voice. </p><p>Peggy can’t hold it anymore. “Did they write back?”</p><p>Madam Elena arches an eyebrow. “You’ll see.”</p><p>Peggy skips into Madam Elena’s office and flops down on the chair across from her maths teacher. She looks around the room. Dozens of books stack the room’s walls; most of which Peggy has had the pleasure of reading. While Peggy was studying, her teacher’s desk was littered with papers. Now, it's devoid of everything, letting the sun gleam on the hardwood desk. </p><p>Peggy crosses her hands and rests them on her lap, trying to quell her nervousness.</p><p>Madam Elena sits down and reaches in her drawer, but before she can pull her hand out, she fixes Peggy with a stern look. </p><p>“You will write an apology letter, Peggy.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, yes,” rushes Peggy, squeezing her hands tighter. “Now, can we get on with it?”</p><p>“<em> Peggy. </em>”</p><p>Peggy tips her head back in frustration, the  base of her skull hitting the backrest of the chair. Looking up at the ceiling, she begrudgingly agrees. “Yes. I will write a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Portley, and apologize for sneaking into his home.” </p><p>Madam Elena smiles, amused. “Did you really steal his most expensive bottle of whiskey and take off with Mrs. Portley’s knickers? The entire staff was talking about it.”</p><p>Peggy nods, her mischievous smile sneaking back up her face. “Evelyn, Helen, and Elaine were happy to just put worrying amounts of itching cream on his furniture. It took months to plan.” She ends her statement by raising her chin, an air of smugness in her features.</p><p>Her teacher shakes her head. “Be glad they like you-”</p><p>Peggy cuts in. “That’s just because I’m one of the few people in the school that actually gives a damn-”</p><p>“Peggy,” Madam Elena chasites, “You are able to succeed because you have the support to succeed. Some other girls don’t. You are lucky.”</p><p>Peggy slumps in her chair, red curling in her cheeks. “I know.” </p><p>Madam Elena looks at Peggy, eyes asking a silent question. <em> Do you? </em></p><p>She thinks back to her elder brother, who always tried to encourage her. Every term, they used to compare grades, and whoever got the best grades would win, and get gloating rights for that term. Peggy hated losing, especially to her brother, so she gave her studies everything she got. And when Michael got to go to college, Peggy kicked up a storm about wanting to go as well. </p><p>And here she is, somehow holding a degree in Mathematics Engineering and Chemistry.</p><p>Peggy thinks of Madam Elena, a Russian immigrant, who probably didn’t grow up in a nice house like Peggy did, or have a supportive family. Peggy was lucky, she knew that; she wasn’t stupid.</p><p>Yet, her teacher came out on top - became successful. She was bold, articulate, and unafraid; it was everything Peggy wanted to be. </p><p>Madam Elena sighs and pulls out three envelopes from her drawer.</p><p>Peggy tries not to look so shocked. <em> She applied to ten jobs, and only three of them responded? </em> But then again, she's a woman in a man’s world. </p><p>She grabs them and flips through the addresses. “Publishing Company who needs a secretary,” Peggy mutters, pulling another envelope out, “another secretarial job; <em> good heavens </em>, how many secretaries does this world need, and- AHA!” Peggy looks triumphantly at the letter at the bottom of her short stack.</p><p>She shoves the letter unceremoniously into Madam Elena’s face. At Madam Elena’s arched eyebrow, Peggy explains. ‘Teaching job. They want me to teach math at the Girl’s School in Hampstead, not even a few miles from home.” Peggy nods her head, making her decision. “I can do this.”</p><p>Madam Elena smiles. “And is this your final decision?”<br/><br/>Peggy’s too busy tearing open her envelope and reading what the creamy paper was disclosing. Madam Elena’s words take a long time to hit her. Peggy lifts her head slowly. “ <em> Do you have more?” </em>she asks carefully. </p><p>“Only one more, I’m afraid. Remember the test I had you take when you were supposed to be in your English class?”</p><p>“...Yes.” Peggy perches at the end of her chair. “The one with the puzzles, right?”</p><p>Peggy remembers that day clearly. Madam Elena had pulled her out of class and taken her into her office, where a small booklet lay on a clean table. An administrator had stayed at the corner of the room, watching her work with a stopwatch in  hand.  </p><p>It was an odd sort of test, Peggy had thought, with pages of riddles and crosswords. Some required math, the numbers sitting in patterns, and some that required simple logic.</p><p>At the end, she wasn’t even allowed to tell her friends what she did, because the administrator made her sign a nondisclosure agreement, which made Peggy feel very important. She had signed her name in swoops of curls, dancing across the line. </p><p>“Yes. That was for this.” Madam Elena pulls out a pale colored envelope, and pushes it towards Peggy. “And by the way,” she adds as an afterthought, “the administrator said  you were the fastest one out of the whole lot they tested.”</p><p>Peggy shrugs. “My mum made me do a lot of those puzzles. She said it kept me quiet most of the time, so I didn’t annoy her at times.”</p><p>Madam Elena’s smiles impishly. “Nice tactic.” Her eyes flit back to the envelope sitting in the middle of the desk. </p><p>“So,” Peggy says, smoothing down her dress, “What was the test for?”</p><p>“Have you heard of Bletchley Park, Miss Carter?”</p><p>
  <em> Bletchley Park?  </em>
</p><p>“No, I have not. What is it?” Peggy leans forward, halfway out of her chair, confused, her hands stopping their fidgeting for a while to focus on her teacher. </p><p>Madam Elena smiles softly. “That’s classified. But I <em> can </em> tell you that they’ve started recruiting just recently.”</p><p>Peggy's heart leaps, the blood under her skin thumping loudly. </p><p>Madam Elena continued, “They noted that your grades were spectacular, and they believe you will be a good addition. Add that with your <em> spectacular </em> performance on the test, and they were willing to give you an invitation.”</p><p>The corners of Peggy’s mouth curl upwards for a brief moment. Of course her grades were spectacular. Easy education, and lousy books, that’s what women got. Peggy just snuck some of her brother’s college books in, and ta-da! She’s suddenly the smartest in her class. </p><p>She pauses, replaying what Madam Elena just said in her head, and asks, “What will they have me do?”</p><p>“Code breaking,” clarified Madam Elena calmly. “It takes a certain amount of logistics and mathematical intelligence, which you seem to possess.”</p><p>Bloody hell. </p><p>Peggy can’t believe her ears. “Me? They want me?”</p><p>Madam Elena nods, still looking calmly at Peggy. “Do you have an answer?” she asks, simply. </p><p>Peggy shakes her head, stunned, her hands laying still, almost boneless in her lap. “No. Not right now. I… don’t know.”</p><p>“Take your time. But they’ll need an answer soon. Take the envelope.”</p><p>Peggy clutches it in her hand, along with the three other invitations. Her mind can only form one thought. “Why me?”</p><p>Madam Elena looks back at Peggy, her porcelain face holding a shadow of concern. “Why?”</p><p>“Out of all of the girls, why me? Why... Bletchley Park?”</p><p>Madam Elena has an inscrutable look on her face. “Because, out of all, you showed the most ambition. Now, pair that with your cunningness -  you'll be able to put that to good use  at Bletchley Park.”</p><p>Peggy can’t help but whisper, “What if I can’t?”</p><p>Madam Elena tilts her head. “Now, that’s unlike you, Peggy.” Her former teacher looks out into the garden from the window, where dozens of girls and their parents have congregated. “I have seen many people become arrogant and reckless as time goes on. You must not allow yourself to do the same.”</p><p>***</p><p>Thankfully, Peggy can confidently say, the graduation ceremony went without a hitch. She receives her diploma with a teeming decision resting on her head. On one hand, Bletchley Park… codebreaking seemed like a dream. Something more, something compelling, a life worth living.</p><p>One the other hand, her mother would tell her to choose the math teacher department, which would be a safer choice all around.  </p><p>The answer is right in front of her. Codebreaking. That seems like a huge leap from the small dream of becoming a math teacher. </p><p>
  <em> But would it be worth it? Would it be proper?  </em>
</p><p>She has no clue.</p><p>Peggy just fears her excitement was going to land her in a position where she wouldn’t be able to take multiple steps far away.</p><p>***</p><p>They go home, her mother beaming the entire ride. Peggy says goodbye to the classmates she’ll never see after today. Evelyn, Elaine, and Helen all live close by, so she says goodbye only for the day, and then shuffles herself in the car. Knowing the four envelopes are safety tucked in her handbag, she stowes it out of sight, and pushes the thoughts out of her mind. Instead, she regales her mother and father with stories of college life, and how much fun she had. </p><p>When she gets back, her brother is standing at the gate, a huge smile on his face and something wrapped in tinfoil in his hands.</p><p>Peggy almost flies out of the car. “Michael!” she yells, running over to him and throwing her hands around him. </p><p>“Whoa, Peggy!” Michael laughs, trying to keep himself upright. “Hello to you too.”</p><p>Peggy stops squeezing him to death, and then draws back to eye the tinfoil package Michael had in his hands. “Is that for me?”</p><p>Michael pretends to think, like the colossal arse he is. “Mm… I don’t think so”</p><p>Her face might have dropped more than necessary because Michael hurriedly amends his words. “I was joking! It’s for you.” He holds the package out.</p><p>Peggy cradles it and tears a piece of foil off to peak inside. When she sees an eyeful, she gasps. “Cake!”</p><p>“Cake!” Michael agrees, grinning. Then noticing their dad struggling with Peggy’s trunk, he yells, “I’m coming!”</p><p>Michael jogs to her father and helps him unload Peggy’s gigantic suitcases from the trunk. Peggy clutches her handbag and cake closer to herself and makes her way into the house, her mind only focused on eating her sugary prize.  </p><p>***</p><p>Peggy wakes up in the middle of that night, under her familiar walls of her rooms, tangled in soft sheets, thirsty. She looks to her bedside table- and <em> of course </em> she forgot to fill a glass up for the night.</p><p>Her throat was extremely dry, so Peggy gets herself up, rubbing her eyes. She forgoes a robe, and stumbles toward the door. But when she opens it and makes her way down her hallway, still blinking madly, she notices the living room’s light still on. And then she registers her parents, talking in hushed whispers. Peggy stills herself for a moment, and then making a split-second decision, settles herself on the middle-most step, straining to listen in from the stairs leading down to the closed living room. </p><p>“I- I don’t know Amanda, dear, I just need you to strap in. Things will get messy.”</p><p>“Of course,” she hears her mother say comfortingly, “but what happened? Are you alright?”</p><p>“I’m fine. I’m fine, love, I promise. I just,” her father pauses, then lets out, “it’s confidential.”</p><p>Peggy scoots forward, her ears trying to pick up the conversation. Her father was an MI6 operative, in charge of the big cheeses. She knew her father wouldn’t spill any confidential matters, he was very careful about that, but judging by the tone of her father’s voice, something serious was happening. </p><p>“Politically, I need you to know, things will be stressful. Internationally, I mean.” He adds, after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I need you to make sure Mary doesn’t listen to the news that much - she’s barely fifteen, I don’t want her getting stressed about all of this nonsense.”</p><p>Her mother stays quiet for so long, that Peggy considers going back into her room. But as Peggy’s leaving, she speaks up. “Harrison, do you think there <em> will </em> be a war?”</p><p>Peggy freezes, goosebumps erupting on her arms, her hands clenching, hoping her father’s answer is no. </p><p>“Maybe,” Her father admits with a sigh. “I’m not sure.”</p><p>Peggy scampers upstairs at that shocking revelation, closes the door with a huff and just stands there, mind racing wildly. </p><p>She wasn’t stupid -  she knew tensions in were high, with all the international politics. The radio in the common room at college was always on, whether she wanted it or not. </p><p>And at that moment, she stands with her back pressed to her door, her mouth parched and her hair in a wild tangle of curls; she thinks, <em> oh shit</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. CHAPTER TWO: MAY 1939: Hero’s Dissent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hai. I is back.</p><p>Thank you so much for all the lovely comments last time!!</p><p>As always, my thanks to @hmm-what-am-i-doing for editing and being an absolute dear!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>1935: (Peggy is 14 years old)</b>
</p><p>“Congratulations, Marlene!”</p><p>“Thank you!” Marlene says to Peggy, looking gorgeous in her floor length wedding gown, her face positively glowing. Her jewelry sparkles in the moonlight, making Marlene’s babyish face look more regal. </p><p>“The ceremony was beautiful, Marlene,” Evelyn says on Peggy’s right.</p><p>Giddy, Peggy can’t help but blurt, “Yes, you looked very old!” Noticing the look on Marlene's face, she rushes to amend herself. “I mean- mature. You looked so mature, so much… adult.”</p><p>Evelyn shoots Peggy a weird look, but Peggy ignores her and focuses on not making more of an ass of herself. </p><p>Marlene flushes pink, and tries to end the conversation like a proper adult -  something that Peggy probably needed to work on. “Thank you for coming. Both of you.” She turns around, pursing her lips, and the train of her skirt leaves a puff of perfume in the air that makes Peggy sneeze. </p><p>Peggy shoots Evelyn a look of despair, which is ignored as Evelyn smooths down her own dress and looks out onto the lawn, spotting the buffet.  </p><p>“Cake,” states Evelyn, her hands on Peggy’s shoulders, eyes fixed on the tall wedding cake. </p><p>Peggy sighs gloomily. “Cake,” she agrees. </p><p>With great skill, Peggy and Evelyn manage to snag their plates of well-deserved cake, away from the little kids sticking their hands in the food. Trying to find an empty table without any old people proved to be impossible, so the two girls decided to sit in the grass under a nice tree, a bit further away from the venue. Evelyn wastes no time in shoveling the spoonful of cake in her mouth, and Peggy almost drops her plate in the process of getting herself seated. </p><p>They finish their cake in silence, too hungry for sugar to say anything to each other. After five minutes of silence, Peggy scrapes her plate clean. Putting the clean plate aside, Peggy lays down on the grass, feeling the cool pointy blades tickle her neck and legs. </p><p>“How I wish London was’t covered with fog,” Evelyn says, looking up as well. “We might be able to see some stars.”</p><p>Peggy smiles. Her eyes roam the night sky, and she can almost see the constellations in the sky her mother has taught her so many years ago. If she closes her eyes, she can recall Cassiopeia, the queen, shining brightly in the country sky.</p><p>The crunch of grass breaks Peggy out of her mind. She turns her head and watches a pair of shiny shoes walking closer to her. Tilting her head, Peggy finds those shoes attached to a boy. A handsome boy, if she were allowed to make that observation. His hair was slicked back like every pompous child in class, and his suit was impeccably form-fitting. It reminded her of Michael’s rich friends. </p><p>She hated him immediately. </p><p>Said boy comes up to Evelyn and sheepishly asks for her hand, his eyes looking at her with a gaze like the ones you hear about in romance novels. Evelyn takes it, flushing, and grins back at Peggy, whose mouth hangs open, almost comically.</p><p>Peggy sits up quickly, and watches Evelyn walk hand-in-hand to the dance floor, being lit by twinkling lights strung on the trees surrounding the clearing. </p><p>Falling back on the grass once again with a <em> ‘hmpf’ </em>, Peggy turns her gaze to the stars. Low on the horizon, she can make out the faint constellation of scorpio, laying innocently in the inky violet sky. </p><p>And then someone drops down on the grass beside her. </p><p>Turning her head, she lets out a gasp that would rival actresses in those silent films. “Michael!” she squeaks, trying to get her hands around her brother. “Michael, you’re home!”</p><p>Peggy’s brother, almost a spitting image of their father, lets out a familiar grin. “Hiya, Pegs.”</p><p>Finally sitting up on her knees, she gapes at Michael. “How are you home?” she inquires. “Aren’t you supposed to be at college?”</p><p>Peggy can see a smug smirk flit across her brother’s face. “Finals were early. So I got to go home quicker.”</p><p>Peggy gapes at her brother, something like jealousy bubbling in her throat. Her finals were to come up in a few weeks, and her teachers had repeatedly told the class that it would be hard. </p><p>“Where’s your friend, whats-her-name? Evie?”</p><p>“Evelyn.” Peggy narrows her eyes at said friend, who seemed to be having a merry little time dancing with everyone, while she’s sat under an ugly tree, stuck talking to her elder brother. </p><p>“Where’s Mary?” Michael prodded on.</p><p>Peggy spots her younger sister sitting with her parents, looking like an absolute angel in her new dress. “Did you not see her yet?” Peggy demands. “Does mum know you’re here?”</p><p>Michael pulls out a toffee from his coat pocket and chucks it into his mouth. “I saw mum,” he mumbles around the toffee.</p><p>Peggy shakes her head and turns her gaze back to the dance floor. Everyone seems to have such a fun time, she notices, feeling awfully bitter. </p><p>“Has anyone asked you?” Michael asks, following her gaze. Peggy frowns over the music, recognizing the teasing tone in her brother’s voice.</p><p>“No,” she mutters, eyes downcast, and leaves it at that. No one ever asks her to dance. </p><p>Michael huffs and stands up. Wiping his hands on his pants, he offers his hand to Peggy. </p><p>Peggy shoots Michael an unimpressed look.</p><p>“What?” returns her elder brother, “Come on, I’ve got to impress the ladies here. Come dance with me.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she gets to her feet. Grinning, Michael leads the way to the dance floor, passing the tables full of old people, looking like the way Peggy felt a few minutes ago. </p><p>The music is slow and moving, the orchestra filling the venue with a type of joyish and magical feel. </p><p>The tune changes to something a bit more upbeat, the trumpets blowing a victorious, happy  tune. Peggy beams at Michael, who smiles back at her. They both walk confidently on to the dance floor, people already swinging and spinning intime with the music. The trumpets blare again, filling Peggy with that giddy, happy sensation. Peggy grabs Michael’s sweaty hand, and they begin to move in tandem with the rest of the crowd. </p><p>Left, Up, to the Side, Down, Right, Twist, Spin, and Again!</p><p>The dancers move in sync with each other, all falling into a rhythmic pattern. It’s only Peggy and Michael who are doing their own thing, their specific moves making them stick out from all the rest. </p><p>Peggy’s woozy from the spinning, the pretty lights and the glittering of women’s dresses blurring together; the music is turning triumphant once more, and Peggy moves her feet faster. Michael is grinning at her, his eyes gleaming. She giggles as she’s being spun faster by Michael, the heavy breeze on her face tickling her, making it absolutely impossible to keep her face straight. They reach the edge of the dance floor, and out of nowhere, Michael grabs Mary’s hand, who was standing on the sidelines, clapping, and pulls her in.</p><p>Mary squeaks, and tries to get away, her ringlets bouncing, but Peggy grabs her hand, and they twirl together with the rest of the guests. </p><p>With the laughter of the guests, and the music played by the band mixing together, Peggy thinks, holding her younger sister’s and elder brother’s hands, she doesn’t care. Let the world spin round and round. She’ll take care of anything that comes her way later.</p><p>But for now, she’ll keep on dancing.</p><p> ***</p><p>
  <b>1939: Present Day (First Week of Peggy’s Freedom)</b>
</p><p>Peggy almost breaks her pinky finger on her way to her grandmother’s house the next day. Apparently shutting your tiniest finger against the car door is <em> not </em> the best way to start the day.</p><p>Cradling her sore hand, she makes her way up to the Birminghamshire townhouses, the brown bricks blending together. One house stands out from the rest, with red roses climbing the wall, the dark green and red a stark contrast from the bland colors that grace the street. </p><p>Peggy reaches the house and knocks. The peacock door knocker gleams at her, its unique peaky eyes staring forward, forever frozen. </p><p>The door opens to reveal a lean woman, her ginger hair thrown into a haphazard bun.</p><p>“Aunt Jane,” blurts Peggy, “Hello!”</p><p>“Oh, Peggy,” rasps her aunt, “Oh, come on in. Your Nanna is sitting in the kitchen.” She sneezes violently as Peggy steps inside. Peggy awkwardly digs inside her coat to hand her poor aunt a handkerchief. </p><p>“Thank you, dear,” Aunt Jane whispers. “I just don't know what came over me. I’ve been sick all week. Here.”</p><p>She hands back the handkerchief, folded suspiciously, and Peggy hurriedly shakes her head. “You can keep it.”</p><p>“Oh! I- thank you. I’ll go upstairs now.” As Aunt Jane makes her way upstairs, Peggy walks along the hallway to the kitchen, where her grandmother sits behind a small circular table, her head bent over some books. </p><p>“Nanna?”</p><p>Grandmother Rose looks up, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight coming in from the kitchen window. </p><p>“Peggy!” she exclaims, and stands up, laughing. Grandmother Rose opens her arms, and Peggy walks into them automatically, her cheek coming to rest on her Nanna’s head. They hug tightly, a tradition erected from when Peggy was only four years old, to hug each other as tightly as possible, as if they could physically show their love by how hard they hug. </p><p>Peggy finally lets go, and, still smiling, Nanna gingerly sits down once again, picking up her pen, and going back to her accounting books. </p><p>Peggy sits across from her and leans forward to see the numbers. </p><p>“How is the bakery?” Peggy asks, tapping her foot in anticipation, “Is the business running well?”</p><p>“Of course, dear.” Nanna looks over her spectacles at Peggy, who was pouting slightly at the divided attention, “I’ll just finish up dear, and then we can properly talk. You have to tell me everything.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>Peggy leans back in her chair, looking at the photos hung up on the wall. There is an old one, with Mum and Uncle Frank sitting together when they were younger, looking unsmilingly, at the camera, though their eyes show mirth, like they were laughing beforehand. There is one of Uncle Frank and Aunt Jane on their wedding day, grinning from ear-to-ear. Then, there is one of her Grandpappy in his naval uniform, staring out in the distance like he was thinking of something serious. But her grandfather always told her he was thinking of just eating pudding at that moment, which used to make her laugh.</p><p>Now, she doesn’t laugh much. Her Grandpappy is dead and gone, put in the ground, with a stone on the top. </p><p>For as long as she could remember, her grandparents owned a small bakery in the part of Buckinghamshire that was notably poorer. The bakery was Grandpappy and Nanna’s job together, but now it rested in Nanna’s hands alone, after the mission that killed him. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> Peggy is five years old, and Michael has dared her to play another round of hide and seek after winning all the other rounds. She is furious. Oh, she’ll find a good place to hide. Just then, she spots the dining table. Her grandmother had just bought a nice new table cloth that falls all the way to the ground.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Perfect! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She crawls under it and sits there for a long time, listening to her brother look for her upstairs. Peggy smothers a giggle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Getting bored after a few minutes of silence, Peggy lifts the cloth. In the kitchen, she can see her grandfather, tall and beefy, press a kiss to her grandmother’s hair.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her grandmother blushes, and turns around in his arms. “Hello, my darling,” she says, touching his cheek. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her grandfather smiles softly, smoothing down her grandmother’s hair. They move together with ease, in sync with each other’s movements around the kitchen, the flour and sugar scattered around in a way only her grandparents could work with. A tray of cookies sits on the stove, cooling down as her grandmother starts mixing frosting for the cake sitting on the counter. Her grandfather cuts the tops of the cake, leveling it out and eating the extra pieces. Peggy watches as the crumbs get caught in her grandfather’s mustache. Just then, Grandpappy’s eyes meet hers, his  growing comically big. Catching Peggy peeking under the cloth, he rushes over to throw her in his arms. Peggy squeals, and Nanna watches with amusement painted on her face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The three of them lick frosting from their hands and forget about dinner.  </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>“-ggy? Peggy?”</p><p>“Huh?” Peggy blinks, and looks at her grandmother. “What?”</p><p>“You blanked out for a moment there, dear.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Nanna purses her lips, wearing a stern expression, reminiscent of Mum's. But then her eyes turn soft. “There are some gingerbread cookies on the counter, if you want any.”</p><p>Peggy snaps out of her sad haze and topples her chair over as she searches for the batch of cookies. She spots a blue container on the counter and almost slips on the tiles in her haste to get to it. Satisfied as she stuffs her face with a cookie, Peggy sits down, almost sheepishly, remembering why she came round in the first place. </p><p>Putting the blue container on the table, she swallows awkwardly, placing her hands flat on the table. </p><p>“Nanna,” Peggy says, quietly, “Do you think there’ll be a war?”</p><p>Her grandmother looks at her sharply, her hands freezing in the task of clearing the table. “Why?” she asks softly, “What made you think that?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Peggy mutters, “But-”</p><p>“I would say the wisest thing for you to do is to not stress over it much. <em> If </em> a war comes, then we’ll deal with it.”</p><p>“Nanna,” Peggy whines, throwing her head back, “I’m trying to be an adult here.”</p><p>Her grandmother shoots her a look. “Really?” she asks, sarcasm lacing her tone, “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Nanna.”</p><p>Her grandmother shoots Peggy a devilish smile. Pulling out a small black box from one of the drawers in the room, she turns to hand it to Peggy. “By the way,” she says, “Congratulations.”</p><p>“What- oh, thank you.” Peggy takes the box, and opens it to find a watch. It’s a regular watch, with the usual black straps, but Peggy can’t help but let out a small timid smile. </p><p>“How did you break your watch this time?”</p><p>“What?” Peggy turns to look at her grandmother, who is leaning on the counter, her gaze piercing Peggy, “I- how did you know?”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Margaret. Of course I know.” </p><p>
  <em> Crikey.  </em>
</p><p>“Mischief,” says Peggy shortly. What really happened was that she went for a late night recreational swim in a nearby lake and forgot to take off her watch. And the last time - well, she doesn’t like to think about last time. </p><p>“If you say so,” Nanna says, and walks over to stand in front of the small stove. “Will you be staying for lunch, dear?”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>1939: The same day.</b>
</p><p>Peggy’s parents sit in the dining room, nursing their routine cup of nightly tea. Peggy watches the clock out of the corner of her eye, waiting for it to get late, as Michael and Mary talk to her about some cricket match taking place the next morning. </p><p>Outside, all three Carters can hear the rumbling of the dark clouds, and the light pitter-patter of the rain against the window closest to them. It seems like something out of a bed-time story, their fire crackling in their fireplace and everyone nursing a warm cup of milk. </p><p>She waits until Michael and Mary have disappeared into their rooms to pull out the envelopes she hid in her robe - the yellow light from the fire casting long shadows on the paper. </p><p>Peggy’s made her decision. She just needs the strength to go forwards. </p><p>Steeling her nerves, she gets up, and walks the hallway to the dining room, making sure to step on the squeaky floorboards to make sure her parents heard her coming.</p><p>Her parents sit together, their heads bent together, talking. </p><p>Her mother looks up, confused when Peggy walks in and stands in front of them. </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Peggy falters. It’s now or never.</p><p>“I- <em> erm </em>- I got job offers,” Peggy says, all in one breath. </p><p>Her mother looks confused, and her father looks at Peggy tiredly over the rim of his cup.</p><p>“Come again?”</p><p>“Erm- I applied for a few jobs,” Peggy says, slower, “And I got some offers back.”</p><p>“Oh!” Pleased, her mother brightens up a bit. “Where to, dear?”</p><p>Peggy swallows. “A few secretarial jobs, one at a Publishing Company.” </p><p>Her mother nods, a pleased smile forming on her face. </p><p>“And another one, to be a maths teacher at St. Martin’s, actually.”</p><p>“Oh! Well isn’t that wonderful?” Her mother gushes, “And it’s what you always wanted, isn’t it?”</p><p>That was true. Peggy had made up her mind, when she finally was allowed to apply to college, that she was going to do something useful with her degree. And the only thing she could think of was being a maths teacher. </p><p>Without another word, Peggy takes the envelopes from behind her back and sets it on the table. She takes the pale envelope and slides it toward her father. “That,” she says, “Is a recruitment letter from Bletchley Park, a codeworking agency.”</p><p>There. All of her cards are on the table.</p><p>“Bletchley Park?” Her father asks, his voice unusually unsteady. He picks up the envelope and runs his finger down the corner.  </p><p>Mum looks surprised. Wide-eyed, she asks, “Harrison, do you know something about it?”</p><p>Papa looks at Peggy, turning red from the anticipation. “I- I heard some chatter about it in the office, but apparently everything is still hush-hush.”</p><p>
  <em> Liar.  </em>
</p><p>Peggy cuts in. “They said I was the fastest out of the lot they tested.”</p><p>Mum looks appalled. “Tested? Where? How? Harrison-”</p><p>Papa puts his hand lightly on Mum’s arm, quieting her. </p><p>“Sit down, Peggy, and shut the door.”</p><p>Peggy stares at her father for a moment more than necessary, feeling like she unraveled a thread of a much larger weaving. She turns and shuts the door, heart pounding in her throat. </p><p>“What I know,” Papa says slowly, putting down his cup of tea and twisting his fingers together, “And what I can legally tell you, is that the government has decided to start something new. A page turned, I suppose. Something we didn’t stress… last time.” He quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Apparently, people have recommended you.”</p><p>“Something new? The government?” Her mother asks. </p><p><em> Last time? </em> </p><p>Her father pulls out the letter enclosed in the envelope. Peggy already knows what it says; she’s spent hours reading and rereading it. </p><p>
  <em> Dear Miss Carter, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We are pleased to inform you…. </em>
</p><p>There is nothing of substance in the letter. All it says is to show up at the address in a week from now to talk more in-depth.</p><p>Peggy swallows and looks at the rest of the papers laying on the table as her father reads over the Bletchley Park letter. </p><p>Guilt and nerves start churning in her stomach. Finally, she bursts out, “I overheard your conversation!”</p><p>Her mother and father slowly meet her eyes.</p><p>“What conversation, dear?” her Mum says slowly. </p><p>“Last night,” Peggy mumbles out, “About the fact that we could go into a war.”</p><p>That stops her parents short. </p><p>“Margaret,” her father says delicately, “That is a hypothetical situation, alright? It hasn’t been confirmed, and Parliament won't make the decision rashly.”</p><p>“But we are in a war standing, are we not?”</p><p>The silence is deafening.</p><p>“...Yes.”</p><p>“Alright!” Mum says loudly, slamming her cup of tea down furiously. “That’s quite enough. Up to bed with you, dear, come on-”</p><p>“No, no, Amanda,” Dad says, waving a tired hand, “It’s alright. Bletchley Park… it's a big deal. Sit down, Margaret.”</p><p>Peggy looks at her mother, whose neck has gone completely red. She slowly lowers herself into the chair across from her father. <em> This was serious </em> , her mind supplied, <em> Papa never talks like this with her. </em></p><p>Her father takes a long time to answer, his eyes going back to the Bletchley Park envelope. Finally, he brings the tips of his fingers together. Without looking at Peggy, he starts speaking quietly. “Tensions are rising in Europe. You know how leadership quickly changed in Germany back in-”</p><p>“Papa,” Peggy cuts in, “I know the dangers of what is happening. I listen to the radio. I have some idea.”</p><p>And she did know. She heard whispers, criticism of different people in power. She learned to read the newspaper carefully, interpreting, reading between the lines, and putting the pieces together. She made sure to sit next to the radio during breakfast at college, when she was older to know better. Something was brewing. Peggy just didn’t want to be left behind.  </p><p>Her father just nods. Taking off his thin glasses, he rubs his eyes tiredly. Mum puts a hand on Papa’s back, as if stabilizing him. She shoots Peggy a nasty glare, as if this was somehow her fault. </p><p>“So…” Peggy asks, “Bletchley Park? What is that all about?”</p><p>Her father takes a long time to speak. “People in the government realized how important codebreaking was. And after the Great War, my guess is that people don’t want to be taken aback. Bletchley was created by those who are desperate to do the right thing. To stop… Hitler, by force if necessary. But....” he trailed off. </p><p>Peggy tilts her head in confusion. “But?” she prompts. </p><p>“The reason this is so secretive right now, is because the other half of society- the other half are <em> sensitive </em>, I would say. They don’t want a war, so they don't think about it.”</p><p>
  <em> Why would you do that? </em>
</p><p>“That’s a bit naive, don’t you think?” Peggy mutters under her breath. </p><p>“Those families lost everything. Their sons and husbands. It was a new type of war in a new world. It was scary.”</p><p>“Oh.” She meets her father’s eyes across the table, the rain outside pounding on the rooftop hard now, making Peggy shiver. </p><p>“So?” she asks apprehensively, “Should I take up the offer?” </p><p>Her father looks away. Peggy’s heart pounds, aware of the answer. This could be her chance to do something for the country. Madam Elena believed in her. But, she didn’t want to be stuck in an office for hours on end surrounded by men, becoming only a mere pawn. </p><p>But she also listened to the news. She knew what was going on in Europe, the Munich Agreement and the invasions. Britain had confirmed the integrity of Poland’s borders, but that was months ago. If war did break out, then she could help. After all, she was from a military background. </p><p>Her mother clears her throat. “Margaret, go to bed. We’ll discuss this later.”</p><p>“No- Amanda, she should decide now. This is secretive, she can’t discuss it anywhere else. It’s best if she does it now.”</p><p>“Harrison-”</p><p>Papa lays a hand on her mother’s arm, quieting the argument.</p><p>“Margaret?”</p><p>Peggy already knows her answer. </p><p>“Alright,” she says nervously, and then sitting upright, she injects some confidence into her voice. “I’ll… I’ll accept.”</p><p>A small smile forms on Papa’s face, his eyes gleaming with pride. Peggy takes the Bletchley Park envelope from the dining table and stands up.</p><p>“Goodnight,” she whispers to her parents, her hand curling around the envelope. </p><p>Quietly, and slowly, she walks into her room, and closes the door. Putting her back to the door, Peggy lets out a shuddering breath.</p><p>She’ll be a codebreaker. </p><p>
  <em> There will definitely be a war.  </em>
</p><p>But at this moment, all Peggy could think about was that she had some control of the future. It was a strange power to have. </p><p>Peggy holds her head high, and stores the Bletchley Park envelope carefully in her drawer. </p><p>***</p><p>The week leading up to Mary’s birthday party is somewhat of a relief from the Bletchley Park worries. Mum puts Peggy rightfully to work, putting her in charge of cleaning the entire backyard; trimming, cutting, and raking the bloody mess. In a way, it's nice to have something time-consuming - something that lets her drift into her fantasy land.</p><p>Evelyn comes over from time to time to get away from her own problems. For some stolen moments, they’re just kids, who laugh under the sun. Peggy cleans the house, and Evelyn trails after her, eating cupcakes and getting crumbs on the floor. </p><p>The day of the party, Peggy stands in front of her mirror looking at the black and white polka dotted dress that she chose for today. Evelyn sits on her bed, messing up the neatness of the sheet.</p><p>“It’s so hot.”</p><p>Peggy looks over from the mirror to see Evelyn stretched out like a starfish on the duvet. Her face is twisted into a grimace as she stares at Peggy.</p><p>“Well, I can’t control the shoddy temperature, can I?” snarks Peggy, “Why are you wearing a jacket then?”</p><p>Evelyn sits up properly, her golden hair shining under the sun’s rays that break through the windows. “It goes with the dress, <em> Margaret</em>. God, I expected you to have some fashion sense. And don’t put a necklace on. Simple looks pretty good on you.”</p><p>“Well, are you ready then?”</p><p>“To eat the food your mother made? Yes,” Evelyn pipes up, “Absolutely.”</p><p>Both of the girls make their way downstairs. The party already has a couple of people. Mary’s school friends all crowd round her as she makes her way around the garden. Peggy’s mum thought it would be more merry if she invited an <em> extra </em> amount of people. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, family friends, and old acquaintances; basically a bigger headache for Peggy. </p><p>Evelyn came for moral support. Peggy can’t brave the waters of her family without some backup. </p><p>She bumps into Aunt Eleanor two minutes into the party. </p><p>“Margaret! Oh, how lovely to see you.” Aunt Elenor punctuates this by kissing her cheeks. “How thin  you have gotten! Have you been eating correctly?” She calls out to Peggy’s mother. “Amanda, has Margaret been eating properly?”</p><p>
  <em> Oh lord. </em>
</p><p>Her mother looks over from the kitchen with a small frown on her face, and then gets whisked away by Peggy’s other aunt. </p><p>Peggy and Evelyn duck away from the chaos and find the food table immediately. Today (thankfully) is <em> Mary’s </em> day to talk to people and go through the headache of actually <em> trying </em> with people, not Peggy’s.</p><p>Evelyn finds a nice corner for them to hide in, fully hidden by plants and trees. No one will voluntarily come to talk to them. Thank god.</p><p>Evelyn makes it her special mission to finish the mince pies and comment on everybody's actions and clothing, and Peggy is happy to laugh along with her. </p><p>“Did you see that woman’s hat? Good heavens, it could be used as a weapon. Forget guns, give those hats to soldiers. I swear, eyes will be taken out.” Evelyn and Peggy both snicker into their cups. </p><p>Michael spots them, holding a plate of chicken, and bounds over eagerly. “Hello ladies, want some chicken?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” says Peggy while Evelyn says, “Won’t mind if I do, thank you!”</p><p>Peggy shoots Evelyn an exasperated look, and then turns to Michael. “Don’t you have actual friends to bother, instead of butting into our conversation?”</p><p>“Peggy,” snorts Evelyn, her mouth full of chicken, “Be nice.” </p><p>Michael groans. “But your company is <em> much </em> more pleasant, believe me. And thank you, Evelyn dear!”</p><p>Evelyn then gets bored of everybody and starts animatedly talking about a new book she’s been reading, and then Peggy joins in with the murder mystery she started reading, and honestly, their conversation just goes downhill from there. Michael just leaves, bored after they get into an argument about a side character. Peggy forgets about the surroundings, so invested in her argument, and then Evelyn says, arching her neck,</p><p>“Oh crikey, he looks cute.”</p><p>Peggy turns her head, and there stands Fred Wells. Her heart stops in her chest as she spots her mum crossing the yard to say hello. </p><p>Oh, for heaven’s <em> sake </em>. </p><p>Evelyn starts laughing at the look on Peggy's face, who is actively panicking. </p><p>
  <em> Oh god. </em>
</p><p>Evelyn starts laughing really hard now, and it's all Peggy can do to not punch her. “Oh <em> hell, </em>Peggy,” she says in bouts of laughter, “Your mum is going to be all over you now.”</p><p>Her mother notices Peggy and waves her over. And because Peggy has traitors for friends, Eveyln pushes her forward. With shaky legs, Peggy makes her way over to the Wells family and her mother, who looks way too happy. She forces a smile onto her face and turns to say her hello.</p><p>Fred is looking at Peggy softly, which, in fact, does<em> nothing </em>to help her nerves. </p><p>“Hey Peggy, It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she says quietly. </p><p>Peggy turns to hug Mrs. and Mr. Wells, both of them sporting more gray hair than the last time she saw them. Mum cuts in, “Oh, we should continue this conversation inside, it’ll be more comfortable.”</p><p>Peggy sees the gears in her mother’s head turning, and she quickly tries to stop it before this all goes sideways for her. “Actually, I was with Evelyn-”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry about <em> me </em>, Peggy!” Evelyn, the sneaky git, manages to creep up behind Peggy. “Mrs. Carter, thank you so much for today! Your mince pies were simply wonderful! But, I must take my leave. Bye, Peggy!”</p><p>
  <em> Traitor.  </em>
</p><p>Her mother blushes, and turns to Peggy once more. “Let’s all go in, shall we?”</p><p>They go into the family living room, which is empty, and Fred’s father, seeming to find some of his other friends, goes to join them for a whiskey.</p><p>Peggy finds herself sitting in silence with Fred, as Amanda Carter and Edith Wells seem to take a long trip down memory lane.</p><p>“Oh, Edith,” her mother starts, “Remember Halloween? We used to dress them up as cute pumpkins!”</p><p>“Yes, yes!” laughs Mrs. Wells, “Remember the small plays the children used to put on! Oh, you were so young and <em> cute </em>!”</p><p><em> Small plays? </em> Peggy remembers putting her heart out in those plays, directing every single thing. She was very snobbish, making sure everybody remembered their lines, and the props were properly used. Nobody said anything because she was young, and because Michael would kick anyone who made her angry. </p><p>Fred speaks up. “I remember Mrs. Carter used to make us read Shakespeare. We were only eleven!”</p><p>Peggy’s mum laughs, “Oh, but it helped, didn’t it?” She turns to Mrs. Wells. “I used to be a stickler for those parenting pamphlets. Michael’s school used to give out so many! They said that reading complex books would help young children’s minds and literacy rates. And look now, they are both very educated young people!”</p><p>“Yes, of course, Mrs. Carter.” Fred looks towards Peggy. “We did a play on Romeo and Juliet once. I was Romeo, you were Juliet, remember” </p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>To be honest, Peggy only played Juliet because her mother let her borrow her pearls. And since she had the jewelry, Peggy demanded that it would be best if she played Juliet. She remembers the fluttery feelings of reading out the plays and getting ready for the part. </p><p><em>Drama queen</em>, everyone used to call her.</p><p>“Yes...” Peggy says in a small voice, acutely aware her mother was <em> right there</em>. “So,” says Peggy instead, really loudly, “You started working with your father in the garage, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Yes. I love the work,” Fred laughs. “I never thought it would’ve been something I’d enjoy, but, I found it interesting, after a time.”</p><p>“Of course,” Peggy says shortly. Her eyes flick to the tightly held fists in her hands. </p><p>“What’s been going on with you?” Fred asks, trying to keep the conversation going.</p><p>Mum glares at her. Her eyes seem to remind Peggy once again at how much she disapproves of Bletchley Park.</p><p>“Oh, I’ve applied for a job as a maths teacher, actually. Helping young girls.” Peggy tells Fred sweetly. She just hopes the lie is believable. </p><p>“That’s really nice.”</p><p>Edith Wells cuts in, her hands clasped over her chest. “You both look like you’ve been having a good time. We actually just moved back into our old house. Living in Oxford became boring so quickly.” She chuckles. “I guess we just wanted to come back home. Amanda, you and Peggy should come around for lunch.”</p><p>Her mother brightens, “Yes, we will take you up on that offer, won’t we Margaret?” She nudges Peggy, who thinks her face might be permanently red. </p><p>Peggy already knows this is going to become ‘A Thing’. She just knows what her mother is asking for. Sitting still and trying hard not to sink to the floor in a puddle of stubbornness, Peggy Carter resigns to her fate. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I know that the education system was different in 1930's Britain- but if I researched a bit about that and I swear I was about to lose my mind lol. So, just *please* pretend that Peggy went to school, graduated two years early at sixteen, and went to legit college to get a degree- and then graduated at 18. </p><p>Also, I made Peggy have a younger sister- Mary.</p><p>Thanks for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. CHAPTER THREE: SEPTEMBER 1939: The War Starts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Am I writing a really long Peggy Carter fanfiction to try to ignore all my problems and stress?</p><p>Yes.</p><p>Yes I am.</p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>I also shamelessly took a few scenes from Agent Carter- its all coming together guys!</p><p>(Also Peggy gets choked by a idiot in this chapter, so if that's something you don't want to read, or is triggering, skip from: "Peggy walks in the room, hoping to grab her purse and find a way to somehow run all the way home when she notices another officer in the room, talking with Ruth..." to "The next evening, Peggy once again takes Hugh and Peter’s small hands in hers..."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JUNE 14, 1939</b>
</p><p>“Ah! There you are. Margaret Carter, right?”</p><p>Peggy looks wide-eyed at the middle-aged woman that had just come out of the office. Shooting a cautious look at her father, who was sitting right next to her, Peggy shifts in her seat.</p><p>“Erm- yes.”</p><p>The woman who called her looks like a cupcake, with her brightly colored clothing reminding Peggy of frosting. “Well, dear, I think you’d better come along. We’ve been expecting you.” </p><p>Peggy stands up quickly, clutching her handbag so tightly, the material hurts her hands. She looks back at her father once again, as if asking for confirmation. He nods, urging her to go on. </p><p>The woman looks awkwardly at Peggy. “Well, come along now,” she says in an impatient voice, “It’s alright. We’ll probably keep you for only a few minutes or so.”</p><p>Peggy nods. She doesn’t look back as she follows the woman.</p><p>They walk into a large room, where sunlight from the large windows on one side sweeps the floor with light, brightening up the room. Headphones and typewriters are on large assembly line tables that take up most of the room’s area. On the other side are huge filing cabinets that line the long walls. Sunlight from the large windows on the opposite side sweeps the floor with light, brightening up the room. </p><p>The woman doesn’t stop and crosses the room to a smaller office inside. She bustles Peggy in and tells her to take a seat. </p><p>“Tea?” She asks, already making a pot for herself. </p><p>“Oh, no thank you.” Peggy brushes aside the offer. Her stomach is so filled with knots that it would be a miracle if she could force something down at all. </p><p>The woman takes a seat behind her small desk, adjusting herself as she takes a dainty sip of tea.  Peggy can see her file sitting on top of the desk, with a Bletchley Park insignia stamped on the top.</p><p>Peggy squeezes her sweaty hands in anticipation. </p><p>The woman smiles comfortingly. “My name is Ethel Hall. Nice to meet you.”</p><p>They shake hands across the mahogany table, and Peggy hopes Ethel won’t judge her for having such sweaty hands. </p><p>“How old are you?”</p><p>Peggy answers quickly. “Eighteen.”</p><p>Ethel looks at her suspiciously. “You have a bachelor's degree…” She checks her file, “...in Mathematical Engineering and Chemistry. At Eighteen?”</p><p>Peggy hurries to explain. “Oh! I actually skipped a few grades... to get into college early. And I double-majored.”</p><p>Ethel looks surprised. “Your parents let you?”</p><p>“I was...passionate.” Peggy cringes at her own response. </p><p>“Hmm.” Ethel goes back to her file. </p><p>Peggy plays with the strap of her handbag nervously. Finally, Ethel puts down the file and folds her perfectly manicured pink nails on top.</p><p>“You are brilliant,” Ethel says straightforwardly. Her grey eyes pierce Peggy’s. “Top of your class, and you double-majored in two notably hard courses. It’s no wonder you were recommended.”</p><p>Peggy’s heart leaps. </p><p>“However, we cannot put you in as a codebreaker.”</p><p>Peggy’s lips part in surprise. “Why not?”</p><p>Ethel looks at her plainly. “There are smarter men here, college professors, mathematical geniuses. If we were to compare…”</p><p>“I could do it,” Peggy blurts out desperately. “My test went perfectly. Just give me a chance.” </p><p>“I know you could.” Ethel stands up and straightens her purple coat. “But your efforts would be better sourced indexing.”</p><p>Peggy grips her handbag so tightly her knuckles turn white.</p><p>Ethel pauses and peers at her. “Would you join us”</p><p>Peggy swallows. “What, exactly, am I to do?”</p><p>Ethel has a whisper of a smile on her face. “That, dear, is top secret.”</p><p>Alright, Peggy thinks quickly, <em> I have two choices. </em></p><p>
  <em> One, I could stay and become some sort of secretary. Instead of a codebreaker, like what Madam Elena imagined.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Or, I could become a maths teacher, and use my skills elsewhere.  </em>
</p><p><em> But </em> , her rebellious mind argues, <em> look around. There might be a war. </em></p><p>Taking a deep breath, Peggy allows herself to be a bit reckless. Lifting her chin and looking into Ethel’s eyes, she clearly pronounces, “I’ll accept.”</p><p>Ethel holds out her hand for Peggy to shake. </p><p>“Congratulations. Welcome to His Majesty’s Service.” Ethel announces. Walking over to a cabinet, she produces a few papers and a pen, and moves to set it down in front of Peggy,</p><p>“Paperwork,” Ethel explains, “That is an NDA you have to sign now. Those are paperwork about your person, you can fill it out tonight and have it returned by… next Monday, if you still choose to work here.”</p><p>Peggy’s mind races to keep up with the information. Childishly, she asks, “I can’t even talk to my parents about this?” </p><p>“Not. A. Word. I know <em> Mummy </em> and <em> Daddy </em> would want to know everything about what happened to you on your first day of work, but this is strictly for the government eyes only.” Ethel’s lips seem to become even thinner and her eyes seem to bore onto Peggy’s. “We’ll have to train you quickly, and I’ll have to be strict. Let’s see if you can manage it all.”</p><p>Cautiously, Peggy nods. “Alright.” Peggy takes the pen from Ethel’s grasp, and pulls the Non-Disclosure papers closer towards her. Reading it quickly, she signs her name at the bottom.</p><p>“Brilliant,” Ethel confirms, “Let’s go.”</p><p>Peggy puts the next set of papers into her handbag and quickly follows Ethel out of the office. </p><p>“You’ll be sitting here, and using these pairs of headphones,” Ethel says, moving to a table nearest to the office. “We need you to work right away.” Ethel shoots Peggy a dubious look, and quipped, “You can handle that, can’t you?”</p><p>Peggy nods.</p><p>“Good. You’ll hear gibberish coming from Station Y. We, as in the physical sense of Bletchley, are called Station X. You have to write down these transmissions, and book in. Here.” She shows Peggy how to do it, her thin fingers flying over the typewriters and the switchboards. </p><p>“We are Block E, Incoming transmissions. You’ll have to take this to Block G, traffic analysis.” Noticing Peggy’s slightly open mouth, the elder woman adds, “We <em> are </em> supposed to be a smoothly oiled machine.”</p><p>Ethel turns her attention fully back to Peggy, taking in her flabbergasted features, and raising an perfectly arched eyebrow. “Do I need to repeat anything?”</p><p>“No,” Peggy mumbles. Then, louder, “Will we start next Monday?”</p><p>Ethel crosses her arms. “Yes. You’ll have two more ladies working with you; Penelope and Charlotte.” She pauses, pinning Peggy with a stiff look, her thin lips disappearing into a small line. “I think that’s all for today.” </p><p>Peggy’s head is still spinning as she walks out of the old country house. It was completely empty, with the sound of her heels clicking magnifying in the large house. </p><p>Her father is sitting in his car outside the gates, far onto the main road. Peggy quietly gets into the car and buckles up, mulling over the previous minutes in Bletchley in her head.</p><p>“So? What happened?” Her father peers at her with curious eyes.</p><p>Peggy just looks at him wordlessly, hoping he’ll get the hint. </p><p>Harrison Carter studies his daughter’s young and inexperienced face for a second, then starts the engine of the car and grins. Of all his children, he’d never thought Peggy to be working for a top-secret intelligence like Bletchley.  </p><p>She was too<em> loud, </em> too <em> naive, </em> and too <em> ignorant </em> to even understand what war prevailed. And, Harrison thought, God bless her when the world broke her. </p><p>***</p><p>“How will she work there? It’s an hour’s drive from home!”</p><p>“Amanda-”</p><p>“She’s a young girl, Harrison!” Mum’s shill voice yells. “This is a <em> ridiculous </em> idea.”</p><p>Papa’s voice rises higher. “I didn’t pay for Margaret’s tuition for no reason! At least this way, she’ll have a <em> use </em> for her education.”</p><p>Both of her parents turn their heads to observe Peggy, who sits awkwardly in front of them, slowly going pink. Peggy shoots a pleading look to her mother.</p><p>“Fine.” Mum consents, putting her hands on her hips. “Fine. I guess <em> no one </em> wants to listen to me. Do what you want. And then when there are consequences, don’t come running to me.”</p><p>“<em> Amanda- </em>”</p><p>“Michael was allowed to go away from home.” Peggy cuts in, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Michael was allowed-”</p><p>“Michael is a boy!” Mum shoots back. </p><p>Papa rubs his forehead. “How about this,” he says in a compromising tone, “Your niece, dear, the one who is expecting. The one who lives in Buckinghamshire. What’s her name?”</p><p>“Joan-”</p><p>“Joan. She and her husband live near Bletchley, I think. She can live there for a while-<em> only for a while </em> . Peggy can help Joan out with the household and the kids. Maybe she’ll learn some life skills. <em> And </em> your mother is close by, if any emergencies should arise. ”</p><p>Joan was Aunt Jane and Uncle Frank’s only daughter. She was the elder sister Peggy never had; they would spend summers together with Nanna and Grandpappy, playing and gossiping. </p><p>Peggy sits up straighter and looks at her mother’s composed features. She wants her mother to say <em> yes </em>; to be useful, and feel important. She’s not a child anymore. </p><p><em> Please say yes. Please say yes. </em> </p><p>“...alright. Let’s see how this goes.”</p><p>On that note, Mum walks briskly out of the room, her disappointment apparent. Papa turns to study Peggy, a look of hesitation in his eyes. </p><p>“One chance, Margaret. You have one chance.”</p><p>Peggy nods, hoping she looks brave. She won’t mess up.</p><p>***</p><p>“Oh, Peggy! It’s been too long! ” Joan cajoles at the sight of Peggy, and politely nods at Amanda Carter, both standing outside the door. “Aunt Mandy.”</p><p>Peggy smiles brightly on Mum’s right, clutching her suitcase and handbag, her mood immediately lifting. </p><p>“Come on in!” Joan leads the way down the small hallway, waddling with her hands placed on her heavily pregnant stomach. </p><p>“Tea, anybody?” Joan asks, sweeping her ginger hair out of her face.</p><p>“Oh, that’s alright dear.” Mum jabbers, wringing her hands, “I’m not going to stay for long. Poor Mary is at home, alone.”</p><p>Joan beams widely. “Oh that’s right! How old is she again?”</p><p>“Fourteen,” Mum beams.</p><p>“A fine age!” Joan and Peggy exchange looks, Peggy laughing into her hand. Excitement seems to bloom from the two cousins, brightening up the day despite the cloudy darkness outside. </p><p>A long silence falls over them, and Joan tries to fill the quiet, turning to Peggy now.</p><p>“How was college? Are you still friends with… what’s her name? Evelyn?”</p><p>Peggy stops trying to be mature and blurts out, “<em>Yes</em>,” as if they were young girls playing in the park and gossiping. </p><p>Joan’s eyes twinkle as she moves her gaze to Mum’s. “Oh good! I really <em> liked </em> her,” she recalled, “I always thought Evelyn was more of a… feminine lady.”</p><p>Mum nods along, agreeing. Peggy, however, lets out a snort and starts laughing, her brain making a useless connection. “And I’m more masculine?” she asks, finding Joan’s thoughts hilarious, ignoring the small pang in her chest.</p><p>“Well- erm-” At that same time, two toddlers run into the room, screaming.</p><p>“Ah, my two monkeys!” Joan says loudly over the noise to Mum. “Peter and Hugh. Twins.”</p><p>“Oh my, these two and another babe on the way?” Mum gushes incredulously, “You must be happy to have Peggy to help you!”</p><p>Joan laughs. “I’m definitely going to ask. I should show you your room, Peggy. It’s upstairs.” She moves to get up, but Mum waves her down. </p><p>“Oh, don’t even. Peggy and I’ll go. We just are so glad you are willing to give us a place to stay.”</p><p>“Oh, of course. I’ll need the help anyway.” Joan smiles hospitably. To Peggy, she says, “It’s the attic room, up the second stairs. Now, let me take care of this monkey.” She gestures to Peter, who just started to pull on her dress, whining something about a blue cat. </p><p>Peggy takes her suitcases and climbs up the two stairs to the attic room. It’s small, with a tiny window letting in the early morning light, illuminating the dust flying through the air. A small camp bed is on one side, with a small mattress, an old dresser on the other side. </p><p>Mum frowns at Peggy, looking around the room in distaste. It was a complete departure from Peggy’s room back home. “I know it’s small. Don’t come crying to me later.”</p><p>Peggy meets Mum’s eyes head-on, chin lifted stubbornly. “I’ll deal with it.”</p><p>***</p><p>Mum leaves twenty minutes later, with promises to call. She opens her mouth many times to say something, but would shut it quickly. Peggy ignores this - staying over at Joan’s, with no parents or overbearing supervisors around, sounds like some sort of heaven. </p><p>Joan shuts the door with glee. “Finally. We have to do the wash-up, but do tell me <em> everything </em>!”</p><p>Peggy laughs. They move into the small kitchen, and Peggy’s jaw drops at the amount of dishes in the sink. </p><p>“I know, I know. It’s a lot. But you’ll have time to tell me everything about college. Nanna said that you got into a lot of trouble.”</p><p>Peggy lets out an embarrassed smile. “I’ll tell you later. We’ve hardly talked in ages, how is everything? How is… married life.?”</p><p>Joan lets out a hearty smile and sighs. “Oh, it's magnificent. It was really hard at first. But they do say, Marriage takes compromise. And I love Henry. It was worth it.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>There is a silence after that, and the twins’ shrieks fill the quiet air. </p><p>Peggy focuses on scrubbing a pan clean. </p><p>“So,” Joan says quietly, “You got a job?”</p><p>“Oh, erm- as a maths teacher. More like an assistant. Not any exciting stuff.” Joan nods along, understanding. </p><p>“Peggy,” she says gently, “I need to lay down some house rules.”</p><p>Peggy goes pink. “Of course.”</p><p>“You’ll really need to help around the house. One, I’ll need you to make sure the boys have breakfast in the morning. Cereal, eggs, pancakes, whatever. Just something healthy. Make sure they brush before they eat. Two, I need you to do the simple household chores, brooming, the wash-up, and laundry. I’ll teach you, don’t worry. When the baby comes in two months time, I’ll really need you to pull your weight.”</p><p>“Of course.” Peggy nods vehemently. </p><p>“Good. The bathroom is only free before six in the morning, so be sure you use your facilities early. I need you home by nine, sharp. No girlfriends or <em> boyfriends </em> over.”</p><p>“Of course, Joan. I completely understand.” </p><p>“Good,” Joan says again. “Good.” Then, in sudden contrast, Joan visibly brightens up again, almost giving Peggy a whiplash as she bumps her shoulder next to Peggy’s. “We’ll have so much fun!”</p><p>***</p><p>Peggy stands in front of the shabby mirror, in her dingy attic room for her first day at Bletchley. She smooths down her dress, hoping it gave the impression of a ‘professional lady’ rather than an ‘annoying young girl.’ Last night, Peggy had started racking her brain for what the popular girls wore, close to panicking about everything. If she was ignoring her first-day worries by panicking about mere things like clothes- well that was her own idiotic decision. </p><p>In the end, she chose something that her mother used to harp on about to wear when she was younger. A string of pearls, with a girly pink dress, and her hair in loose curls cascading down her neck. Peggy could find many faults- the dress could easily get dirty, the pearls would tug on the short hairs on her neck and annoy her, her hair was never one to stay in its proper preordained position, but Peggy takes a leap with style. </p><p>She hopes she looks more feminine. Eying her reflection once more, Peggy tries to calm her racing heart by taking a shaky breath, but that doesn’t help. But she knows what she has to do. </p><p>There is a bus that drops off Peggy close to Bletchley. She takes the road to the old country house, readying her identity card. </p><p>Once she’s inside, Peggy rolls up her sleeves and gets to work. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>SEPTEMBER 1, 1939</b>
</p><p>It’s finally Sunday, and the whole Carter family is eating the pie that Nanna had delivered to them that morning. Peggy had come over for the weekend, and she, Mary, and Michael crowd around the wireless, listening to a radio show playing. </p><p>Mum sits quietly beside them, reading some book about the stars. Peggy peaks over her mother’s shoulder from time-to-time to catch phrases and lets her mind drift above the clouds.</p><p>She was content. The house was quiet, something that was a welcome after the chaos of Joan’s household- the shrieks of the toddlers annoyed Peggy to no end. </p><p>And then, Papa rushes out from his office, his feet thumping on the wooden floor. Arriving in the living room, his face pale, he tells Michael to change the channel to BBC in a strained voice. If Michael was surprised with Harrison Carter’s outburst, he didn’t show it. He changes the channel.</p><p>They are just in time to hear:</p><p><em> “ </em> <em> I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock, that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.” </em></p><p>Peggy’s mother gasps. Her father turns the volume up, and Michael rushes over to his father’s side. Mary clutches at Peggy, her nails uncomfortably digging into Peggy’s arms. The world fades out, and Peggy feels so small in her skin; so helpless and incompetent.</p><p>The entire family looks at each other, yet nobody is surprised by these turn of events.</p><p>They are at war. </p><p>
  <em> *** </em>
</p><p>
  <b>SEPTEMBER 29, 1939</b>
</p><p>Peggy sits at her desk, typing down the incoming transmissions, just like she’d been doing for the last four months. By now, she knows Block E by heart. Ethel was right. Bletchley <em> was </em> like a well-oiled machine. </p><p>Peggy thinks her work is all a bit too boring and repetitive at times. She’d listen to a message, then attempt to read the gibberish, and then put it aside.  </p><p>It's a cycle.</p><p>Peggy is reminded of the Greek story of King Sisyphus, who spent an eternity pushing a rock up a mountain, only for it to roll back down and have him do it again.</p><p>Sitting back in her chair, she huffs. Resting her hands for only a moment on the mahogany desk, she looks out at the huge window, where she could see rain coming down in hordes. What <em> won’t </em> she give for a sunny day. </p><p>If she closes her eyes, Peggy can see numbers swim before her, and if she had a bit more time, she could solve it. </p><p>She wants to solve it. She could do it- if only she was given a chance. </p><p>Ever since the war started, with the incoming signals, Peggy’s work started to get a bit more hectic. More girls were recruited to work in Block E, and since they were all engrossed in listening, they had no time to chatter. Peggy hated it.  </p><p>Stretching her fingers, Peggy gets ready to start typing again when Ethel bursts into the room, closely followed by an officer. </p><p>They both look irritated, and the slam of the door startles all of Peggy’s coworkers, who stop typing at once to glance toward the office. There is complete blissed silence. And then the raised voices take over the room. </p><p>Everyone is quiet, obviously trying to listen in, but they can’t hear anything but muffled voices. Just then, not even two minutes later, the officer walks out, obviously annoyed; his brow furrowed, huffing loudly. As if a switch was flipped, all the girls hurriedly go back to their transmissions, the clicking of the typewriters filling the room once again. </p><p>Ethel comes out of her office, rubbing her temples.</p><p>And Peggy sees her chance. Grabbing the stack of codes to be given to Block G and ignoring the questionable looks from her coworkers, Peggy races out behind Ethel, leaving the room. </p><p>“Miss Carter. What are you going?” Ethel chided.</p><p>“Block G.” Peggy says, holding the codes close to her chest, “What happened inside?”</p><p>The elder woman’s shoulder’s sag. After a long silence after navigating the traffic of officers in the hallway, Ethel mutters, “We are apparently understaffed.”</p><p>
  <em> Here’s your chance.  </em>
</p><p>“Mrs. Hall,” Peggy says, “Mrs. Hall, listen.”</p><p>They stop in the hallway, both of them wearing expressions of exhaustion for different reasons. Peggy doesn’t care though; she plows ahead. “I’ve been learning German in my free time. If you need more code-breakers, <em> I could do it </em>- Ethel listen-”</p><p>“Miss Carter. I think-”</p><p>“We already got enough people in Block E,” Peggy interrupts. “I can do code-breaking, I’m qualified enough for it. <em> I took the test </em>. If we are understaffed in that department, I could fill in. Please, give me a chance. That’s all I need.”</p><p>Ethel gives Peggy a hard look. Peggy holds her breath, hoping her argument holds up. </p><p>“Alright,” the older woman says curtly, after a pregnant pause, “A chance. One chance. Drop these off at Block G and come up to Block A. Room 108, I think.”</p><p>“Thank you!” Peggy exclaims. Shooting a smile at her boss, she rushes to the Traffic Analysis room. Dropping the pages of codes in a tray, she speed-walks in an excited rush toward Block E’s room and collects her handbag. </p><p>Steeling her nerves, she quickly walks next to Ethel, and they make their way up the flight of stairs to the rooms. </p><p>“Keep up,” Ethel mutters. Peggy walks quicker, the rush of excitement in her throat. </p><p>They reach a door labeled 108, and Ethel sticks her head in. “Mr. Edwards?” she calls loudly.</p><p>An old man’s voice exclaims, “Come in!”</p><p>They step inside a small room, Peggy almost on Ethel's heels.</p><p>“Mr. Edwards, I have a new codebreaker for you. Miss Margaret Carter.” Ethel steps to the side to let Peggy through.</p><p>“Oh? Send her in.”</p><p>Peggy steps fully into the bright room. Many desks fill up the space, with typewriters, pencils, and papers scattered around. Four girls already sit in the room, poring over files. </p><p>Ethel looks absolutely knackered as she says to Mr. Edwards, “Give her a code. See if she can break it.”</p><p>Peggy’s grip on her handbag tightens, and she raises her chin, hoping she looks confident, as if daring anyone to take this away from her. </p><p>Mr. Edwards ushers her to an empty desk, one next to the window. Peggy sits down quickly and pulls out a pencil. Mr. Edwards disappears into his office and comes out with a piece of paper. Placing it in front of Peggy, all that registers into her mind is, <em> oh no. </em> </p><p>Mr. Edwards places a notebook next to her. “Try to figure this out,” he says. </p><p>Shooting a kind smile at Peggy, Mr. Edward crosses the room to talk to one of the girls typing furiously away at her typewriter. </p><p>Peggy diverts her attention to the code, and puts herself to work, figuring out a strategy.</p><p>***</p><p>One hour later, she puts her pencil down. Peggy sits back and straightens her back. She was more concentrated on the codes than she’s ever been on anything in her life. Peggy didn’t think she even looked up for a moment. </p><p>Picking the piece of paper up, she takes it to Mr. Edwards in his little office and puts it on his desk. </p><p>“It’s a message about the weather.”</p><p>Mr. Edwards looks at her in surprise. “You cracked it?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Edwards looks at Peggy for a moment. He reaches for the phone and speaks clearly into the receiver, “Would you switch Miss…”</p><p>“Carter,” Peggy provides. </p><p>“Miss Carter’s file upstairs. She’ll be working with me now.”</p><p>Peggy smiles widely, a burst of thrill passing through her veins. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>OCTOBER 8, 1939 (Sunday Afternoon)</b>
</p><p>“Are you going to send Hugh and Peter away?”</p><p>Joan looks up from her knitting. “What?”</p><p>“Operation Pied Piper,” Peggy fills in. “Evacuating the children from England.”</p><p>“I’m not sending my babies away.” Joan says, a sharp tone to her voice. “And besides, we are far from London. We’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Of course.” Peggy goes back to folding laundry. “Of course, I’m sorry.”</p><p>A small cry comes from the nursery. Peggy and Joan look at each other. “Could you please get him, Peggy,” Joan pleads, “My legs are like jelly.”</p><p>Peggy leaves the laundry and moves to the nursery. The newest addition to the family, Jackson, lays in his cot, too small to even cry loud enough.</p><p>“Jackson,” Peggy coos, “What happened, my darling?” She moves to pick the baby up. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Securing Jackson in her arms, she figures out the problem. </p><p>“Ah. Nappy change, huh?” She takes Jackson to the small changing table and begins to babble to the baby, making him smile. </p><p>Once the nappy is secure on Jackson’s tiny body, she takes him to the drawing room. </p><p>“Wet nappy?” asks Joan. </p><p>“Yes,” replies Peggy, standing near the window. “And I’d wager he’ll become hungry in a few minutes.”</p><p>“Hold him for a while, please.”</p><p>Peggy nods, and starts talking to Jackson. “Look at that,” she coos, “Look outside. Those are trees. Those are cars. That is a…<em> Fred </em>?”</p><p>“Peggy!” Fred Wells calls from outside, his voice muffled. “Peggy!”</p><p>Joan looks from over her chair. “Who…”</p><p>Peggy sends a panicked look to Joan. “Childhood friend.”</p><p>Joan perks up. “Oh! I think I remember him-”</p><p>“Peggy!” Fred calls again. </p><p>“Here, give me Jackson, see what he wants.”</p><p>Peggy hurriedly hands Jackson to Joan, and straightens her skirt as she walks down the hall and out of the house. </p><p>“Fred!” Peggy exclaims, pulling her cardigan tightly around her as she meets Fred on the pavement, the chilly air cutting easily through her thin clothes. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Why did you move?” Fred asks, a puppy-eyed look on his face. </p><p>“I- what?”</p><p>Fred squares his shoulders and lets out a breath. “You left.” </p><p>Peggy stares at Fred, flummoxed. “I have work.”</p><p>“Oh!” He nods. “You're teaching, right?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Well. It’s good to have a hobby, you know.”</p><p>Peggy frowns. She doesn’t correct him though. “Fred,” she says gently, “why are you here?”</p><p>Fred closes his eyes. After a while he opens them, and fixes his gaze on Peggy. “I have to admit something.”</p><p>“...Alright.”</p><p>There is a bout of awkward silence, prompting Peggy to wonder what the hell Fred had come all the way from London to tell her, but thankfully Fred clears his throat. </p><p>“Peggy, I never told you this but I- I-have… feelings for you.”</p><p>Peggy looks incredulously at Fred, staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Behind him, she can see Joan holding Jackson through the window, her mouth also open in shock, obviously trying to listen in to their conversation.  </p><p>“I’ve wanted to be with you ever since we were children.”</p><p>Peggy’s mind conjures up a moment in their childhood when Fred had run away from her, yelling about cooties. </p><p>“Really?” Peggy twists her hands together, a confused smile threatening to break out on her features, hoping it wasn’t at all a nasty joke. “Are you telling the truth?”</p><p>“I am.” Fred says plainly. “I know you moved an hour away from London, but I love you so much, and I hope you will allow me to court you.”</p><p>Peggy is shocked into silence. </p><p>“My mother likes you. And I’ll ask your parents for permission. Peggy.”</p><p>Peggy meets Joan’s flabbergasted face yet again, her mouth open comically big. </p><p>“I-” Peggy’s mind hyperdrives and thinks of Joan and her family. </p><p>Secretly, she wanted something like that, the way Henry loved Joan, and how lovely Jackson was. She was tired of the war, like everyone was, and she was tired of being second best from Evelyn. She wanted something to look forward to.</p><p>And besides, this was what adults did, right? She was an adult. If Peggy was to make a checklist, getting married and having a job was on the list. That’s what <em> everyone </em> did. </p><p>Maybe she’ll get a chance with Fred. </p><p>And then she imagines what her mother would say if she said no. </p><p>“...Okay.” Peggy shoots Fred a small smile.</p><p>Fred smiles back at her. “Brilliant! I’ll, erm- I’ll go now. We’ll make a date.”</p><p>“We’ll make a date.” Peggy agrees, smiling widely.</p><p>Fred waves and walks down the path, skipping lightly as he does so.</p><p>Peggy does a full 180 and walks back into the house numbly with her mouth open in shock. When she steps foot into the house, Joan attacks her. </p><p>“What exactly did he want?”</p><p>“He wanted to court me,” Peggy bursts out.</p><p>“Oh my god!” Joan yelps, glee on her features. </p><p>Peggy’s hands clasp her cheeks. “I know!” she shrieks.</p><p>“Okay, you have to tell me everything! When did you meet, what made him want to court you, all the details. Don’t leave out anything!”</p><p>“Well…” </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>OCTOBER 9, 1939</b>
</p><p>Fred takes her out to a tea shop that morning. Peggy spends way too much time in front of the vanity mirror as her nerves go wayward. </p><p>They’re not alone. Mrs. Wells and Mum also come along, keeping an eye on both of them. They choose a table in the back, but Peggy feels their eyes on them every passing second.</p><p>Still, as Fred leads her into a small booth, the sun shining through the windows, Peggy can pretend this small corner of the tea shop is just for them. </p><p>She and Fred get time to talk, <em> actually talk, </em> without anyone really listening in. He talks about his family, and the job he had as a mechanic. He talks about his school, and his friends, and Peggy listens quietly, the morning sun warming her face. </p><p>He’s a fine bloke, Peggy decides. He looks into her eyes, his grey eyes startling bright, and Peggy can’t help but blush. </p><p>“...You know, that’s why I like you.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You’re not like other girls. You’re… unique.”</p><p>“Oh.” Peggy frowns, confused. “Might I ask... how?</p><p>“What?” </p><p>\“How am I… <em> unique </em>?”</p><p>“Oh.” Fred laughs. “You...listen. And when you talk, you sound different than anyone I’ve ever known.”</p><p>Maybe it was supposed to sound romantic, but to Peggy it just sounded so ludicrous, so she laughs. “I listen?” she says in between bouts of giggles, “I’m sure you could’ve found <em> someone </em> around here to listen to you.”</p><p>There is a long beat of silence. Fred just stares at her in confusion, and Peggy quickly changes the topic to cricket. </p><p>***</p><p>“Do you like him?” Mum asks when they are walking to the door of their house. (Peggy had come to stay for a fortnight).</p><p>(For the date).</p><p>“Erm-” Peggy takes a deep breath and decides to tell the truth. “I don’t know. Do <em> you </em> like him?”</p><p>“I do. In fact, he is everything I’d imagine marrying you off to.” </p><p>Joan’s voice comes back to her. <em> Marriage takes compromise </em>. She looks to her mother, who is silently happy. </p><p>Peggy can tell. The lines around her features have loosened up, her updo not as tight on her head as she usually would do. Instead, her mother’s hair is pinned as one of the newest trends, most of it falling against her neck and shoulders.  The pink dress along with the small touches of jewelry that she wore told Peggy that her mother was happy. </p><p>The things she was doing and wearing wasn’t in any way trying to show off, or to disguise anything, like she usually did. But because she wanted to. And she was happy. </p><p>So Peggy makes a deal with herself. </p><p>Everybody told her that marriage took work and compromise. She could do that. If her mother thought it was time to take up the mantle of <em> wife </em>, she’d do that for her. </p><p>“If that’s so,” Peggy begins slowly, “I like him too. I think I could do this.”</p><p>Mum stops in her tracks. Peggy stops too late, and watches tears fill up in her mother’s eyes. </p><p>“Really, Peggy?” Her mother says, her hands over her mouth. “You would?”</p><p>Peggy shrugs, smiling. </p><p>“Oh, Margaret. Oh, you’ve grown up so fast. Oh, this is wonderful news.” </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>OCTOBER 10, 1939</b>
</p><p>Her father comes home that night solemn, Michael right behind him. Standing in the kitchen, everyone learns that the Navy had decided to send him overseas. </p><p>Michael brings the small suitcases from the basement up in his room. Peggy helps him pack, while their father is consoling their mother. Mary is in the kitchen, whipping up a strong tea for their mother. </p><p>He was going away, and god knew how long he would last. </p><p>“I’ll be fine, Peg<em> , </em> don’t fret,” Michael tries to console her.</p><p>“You’re sure?” She’s terrified. She can’t lose her brother. </p><p>Michael pauses pulling his shirts out of his closet. His shoulders sag with stress and defeat. </p><p>“Is it that bad, Michael?”</p><p>Michael crosses over and sits on the bed next to Peggy, his features open and earnest. “We have to fight. <em> I </em> have to fight.”</p><p>Peggy’s heart hammers in her chest. Part of her wants to beg her elder brother not to go. But another part of her wants this war to be over quickly so they can all go back to normal. It’s bad enough that her father is always away from home. </p><p>“I know,” Peggy says, clutching a pair of black socks. “I just, if it was up to me I’d fight right alongside you. You know that.”</p><p>Michael turns to look at her. He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it and turns his back to Peggy as he stands in front of his dresser, sorting clothes. Finally, he speaks.</p><p>“Listen, Peggy, when I’m gone, you’ll technically be the head of the family. Mum’ll be in a right state. Take care of her, okay? Take care of each other.”</p><p>Peggy can only nod, horrified at the fact that her throat clogs up. Blinking rapidly, she tries not to sob. </p><p>She watches as her brother packs up everything in a tiny suitcase and leaves their home. She makes sure to hug him really tight. </p><p>And then, a week later, her father leaves overseas. </p><p>And just like that, the house succumbs to silence once more. Peggy and Mary sit in the living room listening to their mother cry upstairs. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>DECEMBER 15, 1939</b>
</p><p>“Ruth,” Peggy calls, crossing the room, her decoded transmissions held tightly in her hands. </p><p>The blonde looks up from her work, her eyes asking the silent question, <em> what do you want? </em></p><p>Ruth was the top codebreaker in the room. If they had a question, all the girls would know to go to her. </p><p>Peggy puts the transmissions in front of Ruth. “Today,” begins Peggy, “I’ve had three transmissions that ended with: H.I.V.E. Who or what the hell is <em> hive </em>?”</p><p>Mildred cuts into their conversation, an apple in her mouth muffling her voice. “You’ve seen it too?”</p><p>Peggy turns to Mildred, the shock on her features clear. “What? You too?”</p><p>“Yeah, once or twice. I’ve always assumed it was a weird signature or something.”</p><p>Ruth snorts. “Well, it might not be smart to do that-”</p><p>“Girls!” Mr. Edward’s voice cuts in. “What is going on?”</p><p>“It’s the transmission, sir,” Mildred calls as she exchanges an annoyed look with Peggy. “We’ve found many with patterns in them.”</p><p>Mr. Edwards swiftly takes the codes from Ruth’s hands. “It’s not our job to make sense of the transmissions,” he retorts, staring at them, “we are only here to break them. <em> Intelligence </em> will make sense of it later.”</p><p>All three of them nod. “Yes, sir,” and watch quietly with judgemental faces as Mr. Edwards goes back to his office.</p><p>“He does know we have brains, right?” Ruth commented idly, her face in her hands. </p><p>Mildred laughs. “Fancy that!”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>JANUARY 8, 1940</b>
</p><p>
  <em> “The Government has introduced new restrictions on food, and rationing has officially begun-” </em>
</p><p>The girls all pack up for the end of the day. Peggy glances at the propaganda that lines the walls. </p><p><em> Loose lips sink ships. </em> </p><p>They all repeat that to each other, a small reminder that the work they do is secretive and life-saving. Or threatening. She knows people might live or die based on her effort. Doesn’t matter which side, someone will end up dying. </p><p>Peggy tries to keep smiling when she comes back home. Trying to keep the mood light, Peggy tries to talk about the future, filling it with brightness and a happy home.</p><p>Her mother exchanges grateful looks over dinner, but Peggy’s heart feels like it’s sinking.</p><p>***</p><p>“Mum, I’m going out,” Peggy calls out, swinging her handbag in her hand, and quickly walking to the door to quickly get out of the house without any invasive questions being asked. It's snowing outside, and despite the chilling air, it looks positively beautiful.</p><p>Unfortunately, Amanda Carter, having nineteen years experience of being Peggy Carter’s mother under her belt, stops her quickly.</p><p>“Margaret! Get back here.”</p><p>Peggy rolls her eyes and swings around, sagging as she slumps toward her mother in the kitchen.</p><p>“Yes?” Peggy grumbles, not looking at her mother at all.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Mum asks sharply. </p><p>“Out,” Peggy sighs, “I’m meeting Evelyn.”</p><p>“Outside?” her mother asks, appalled, hands at her hips. “Are you mad?”</p><p>Peggy refrains from stamping her foot like a child. “I’ve got my gas mask. We’ll be fine.”</p><p>Mum’s lips purse disapprovingly. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>Finally, Peggy loses her patience. Throwing her hands up in the air, she exclaims, “I’ll be fine!”</p><p>At that moment, Mary chooses to walk in, and being an overall annoying person Peggy’s sister was, she asks, “Mummy, where is Peggy going?”</p><p>“To the park with Evelyn,” Peggy snapped, keeping her eyes trained on her mother. </p><p>“Oh really?” Mary nagged, “I haven’t seen Evelyn in forever! Oh Mummy, may I please go with Peggy?”</p><p>Mary throws in puppy-dog eyes, and Peggy can see her mother softening. Rage fills her, taking in the reins of her brain-to-mouth filter, and Peggy snarls, “No!”</p><p>Mary and Mother’s eyes quickly snap to her’s, shock coloring their features. </p><p>“Yes,” stresses Mum, her hands on her hips, looking positively furious, “If you want to go out, you shall only do it with your sister at your side.”</p><p>Peggy’s mouth falls open with quiet indignation. Mary smirks at Peggy from behind Mum, and Peggy retaliates by sticking out her tongue childishly. </p><p>Five minutes later, Peggy’s standing outside the house’s gate while yelling at Mary to hurry up, her patience dwindling down as her face gets pinker the longer she stays still in the cold. </p><p>Mary yelps as she runs out of the house, catching up to Peggy while clutching a hat on her head. She scrunches up her nose as she looks at Peggy, and quite loudly, proclaims, “I <em> was </em> coming.”</p><p>Peggy doesn’t say anything, but turns on her heel with a swish, and walks to the direction of the park with a huff, snowflakes lightly falling around them. </p><p>Mary runs after her, panting as she tries to keep up in the snow. “You are so dramatic sometimes, you know that?” </p><p>Peggy rolls her eyes and moves to retort, when she notices Evelyn standing on the corner, bundled up in her own coat and hat. </p><p>Peggy brightens up, feeling like the day became a bit brighter, and yells, “EVELYN!”</p><p>The three girls converge on the pavement, the white snow falling around them, trapping them in a fairytale-esque globe. Peggy frowns when Evelyn greets Mary with a bigger hug than she does with Peggy, but in the end, she takes the high road and tries not to comment on it too much.</p><p>“Soooo,” Evelyn teased, “How’s Buckinghamshire?”</p><p>Peggy colors pink, but there is a spring in her step when she brushes a piece of hair out of her face. “Freedom,” she decides. </p><p>Mary tugs on Evelyn’s arm instead, taking away Peggy’s shine, and says, “Evelyn, what have you been up to?”</p><p>“Oh,” Evelyn laughs, “I’ve been doing this and that. Mum has charities that I help with, and occasionally, we’ll host dinner.”</p><p>Mary turns to Peggy, an impish grin plastered on her face. “We’ve been going to a lot of parties, and having <em> a lot of fun </em>.”</p><p>Peggy’s mind however, hangs onto what Evelyn said. She looks around at the destruction that has laid to rest in London, the families torn apart by death. Blinking, she states, “But there’s a war. There are rations and laws, how could you <em> party? </em> Yesterday, the stores all ran out of <em> bobby pins </em> . Can you imagine that? <em> Bobby pins </em>.”</p><p>Evelyn smiles twistedly, looking at Peggy sympathetically. “Only the rich don’t know it.”</p><p>They finish their walk to the park in silence, Peggy only speaking up when she remembers Helen and Elaine. </p><p>“Oh,” began Evelyn, “Helen’s began a course in nursing, and stays at the local hospital for… you know. The poor soldiers.” </p><p>Awkward silence falls over them once again, and Mary prompts, “What about Elaine?”</p><p>“She’s good,” says Evelyn, catching Peggy’s eye, “She’s a mechanic now.” </p><p>They complete a circle of the park when Mary spots Aunt Eleanor, and gleefully walks up to her to strike a conversation.</p><p>“Oh, thank god,” mutters Peggy, rubbing her forehead, and turning to Evelyn. “So, how is Elaine <em> and Charlotte </em>, really?”</p><p>“No one really suspects their relationship,” Evelyn whispers, keeping an eye on Mary, making sure she doesn’t overhear, “Except Elaine’s brother, but he’s off to war. I think they’re safe for the time being. Everybody is occupied with their own worries, afterall.”</p><p>Peggy nods, thankful no one suspected anything. She had met Charlotte once, when Elaine had come out with their relationship. </p><p>She just wonders how long they can keep the secret, in a society such as theirs. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>FEBRUARY 12, 1940</b>
</p><p>Fred takes Peggy on a date to the cinema, closely followed by Mrs. Wells and the holiness of her bloody Mum. Peggy’s cheeks burn scarlet in the theater, watching <em> Waterloo Bridge, </em> closely supervised by her mother like she’s a child on a playdate. Fred’s hand finds her in the dark and they watch Roy and Myria fall in love through the screen as Peggy’s pinky intertwines with Fred’s. </p><p>She recounts everything in detail to Evelyn later, who lies on her bed and listens intently. They both giggle, flapping their hands in excitement, and eventually succumb into peals of laughter.</p><p>And as they sit there, with a satisfied sigh, Peggy thinks of how lucky she is to have Evelyn as a friend. There is no jealousy in her face as they gossip, even though Evelyn was older and ten times more prettier. </p><p>She takes the memory and keeps it close to her heart, desperately trying not to ever forget it. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>SEPTEMBER 11, 1940</b>
</p><p>“Come on, Peggy, let’s go!” Joan calls, holding Jackson safely nestled in her hands, while a heavy bag rests on her back, filled with baby supplies, and Peggy’s own essentials. The bag weighs on her back, on top of all of her responsibilities and stress. </p><p>“Coming,” Peggy calls back, adjusting her own pack, and grabbing Hugh and Peter’s sweaty toddler hands. </p><p>The rain comes down more harshly as they take off out of the house and into one of the Public Air raid shelters. All around them, the sirens blow, evacuating many others out of their houses. There is a nervous sort of energy in the air, one that whispers in your ears and makes you anticipate something amiss. </p><p>They walk with the rest of the crowd, Peggy scanning hopelessly for Nanna, while keeping an eye on the boys and Joan. </p><p>They reach the shelter and go underground quickly, the stench of mud and dirt hitting Peggy’s noise and making her wince. Hugh sneezes, and Peggy, too focused on getting them safely underground, shushes him. They choose a spot against the shelter walls, while watching everyone around them settling down. Pulling the boys down next to her, she doesn’t notice Aunt Jane and Nanna make their way to them. </p><p>Peggy’s too scared to make a sound, but tries to act like nothing’s wrong, mindful of her family around her. Aunt Jane takes the boys and sits next to Joan, who snuggle closer to their Grandmother, clutching her skirts tightly. And Nanna, bless her, quietly takes Peggy to her side. They settle down, Peggy pulling a blanket from her bag, and leaning against Nanna, everyone deathly quiet for what was going to happen. </p><p>The first bomb hits and Peggy flinches. Her heart seems to beat out of her chest. She burrows closer into herself, too dazed to even pay attention to her surroundings. </p><p>
  <em> She’s going to die. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She doesn’t want to die.  </em>
</p><p>“I miss my old job.”</p><p>Peggy snaps out of her haze and turns to furrow her brow at Nanna, the onslaught of shivers racing through her bones. Her grandmother has pieces of cloth out in front of her, and a needle in one hand, quickly sowing a stitch, calmly, as if they were at a picnic. </p><p>“...What?” Peggy says weakly. Another bomb goes down and she flinches. </p><p>“My old job,” Nanna clarifies, “As a surgeon. But,” she says looking into Peggy’s eyes, “I realize that stitching is somehow similar. Come here.”</p><p>Another bomb is dropped, rattling the ground. Peggy scoots next to Nanna, letting her grandmother put her arm around her. </p><p>“Look. I used to do the same thing when we had to stitch up our patients,” Nanna continues as another bomb is dropped, “And both tasks are the same; repetitive. Here, let me show you.”</p><p>Peggy burrows under her Grandmother’s shield until the night is over. </p><p>Still, the war rages on. </p><p>
  <em> *** </em>
</p><p>
  <b>SEPTEMBER 13, 1940</b>
</p><p>It takes her by surprise. Well, not really. She’s been at his side for months. Peggy’s mum has started to consider him as family.</p><p>The thing so alluring about Fred is that he is the only officer in his family. He works in London in one of the war offices, typing up official reports and Top Secret information. In Amanda Carter’s eyes, it makes him more amazing.  A young man joining civil service, even though his parents aren’t in the military, deciding to serve the public with no extra support. It’s inspiring. </p><p>Fred has decided to take them all to a restaurant one Saturday. Peggy’s mum looks surprisingly secretive, which should have been Peggy’s first clue. Peggy herself wears a nice pink dress and Mary whistles as she comes down the steps. For the first time in a long time, Peggy feels truly carefree. </p><p>The restaurant is one of the fancier ones, which baffles Peggy. They were in war. Who had time to waste money on fancy restaurants? But she puts that thought away after seeing the glowing look on Mary and Mum’s faces. </p><p>After dessert, Fred drops to his knee, by her chair. He says a speech, throwing in “I love you’s” but Peggy doesn’t hear, akin to feeling like she is underwater, her hands are clasped to her mouth in shock. </p><p>She somehow says yes, her entire body frozen. The ring is slipped on her finger. </p><p>The entire family is so thrilled, yet Peggy doesn’t know why she feels like she is drowning. <em> This is good. This is happiness. This is what is supposed to happen, she thinks. </em> Then her eyes meet Mary’s, and she looks so jubilant; it’s been so long since she has seen her sister so honestly delighted for her.</p><p>Peggy tries to keep on smiling. </p><p>***</p><p>Back at Bletchley Park. Peggy shows off her new ring. All the girls shriek and crowd around her. </p><p>“We’d thought you’d run out of time, love.” Sarah marvels, looking at her ring. Peggy holds it out proudly. </p><p>Mildred laughs. “We started taking wages around the office that Fred would never pop the question.”</p><p>Ruth snorts. “I bet he would! Someone owes me two quid!”</p><p>“It might’ve been me, I bet he wouldn’t!” Peggy grins. </p><p>They all laugh, and Peggy feels so pleased. </p><p>But as Mr. Edwards comes out of his office, Peggy’s fantastical bubble pops. </p><p>“Alright ladies, enough chatting, back to your codes. Miss Carter, a word.”</p><p>“Of course, Mr. Edwards.” Peggy shoots an excited look toward Mildred and hurries over to the main office. </p><p>“I hear congratulations are in order.” Mr. Edwards says conversely, sitting down in his chair. </p><p>“Yes, I’m to be married.” In an air of delight Peggy holds out her hand looking at her ring yet again, the diamond glinting in light, looking too gorgeous to be on her hand. </p><p>“Lovely,” Mr. Edwards says shortly. “Well, I hope you are ready for another proposal.”</p><p>He leans back in his chair and pulls out an envelope from a drawer and hands it to Peggy. On it are the initials: S.O.E.</p><p>“What’s S.O.E?” Peggy asks, rather childishly, having no clue why Mr. Edwards had brought her in here, and what this envelope means. </p><p>“Special Operations Executive. It’s a new war division spearheaded by Winston Churchill himself.”</p><p>Peggy’s mouth falls open. The new Prime Minister? She catches herself and breathes out, “And they need a codebreaker?”</p><p>“Codebreaker? Good heavens, no.” Mr. Edwards looks at her. “They have been tasked to train field agents in irregular warfare; espionage, sabotage, guerilla tactics.”</p><p>Peggy stares right back at Mr. Edwards. “Field work? But they don’t send women into the field.” </p><p>The only women that went into the field were nurses, and they came out with horror in their eyes and blood on their porcelain hands. </p><p>She’d rather not, for the white-fenced home dream Fred promises her everyday. Peggy holds on to the hope of that future, in the hope that everything will turn out alright.</p><p>“Resistance networks all over Europe need people who won’t draw attention walking down the street. They need women. And they are recruiting you.”</p><p>“Why?” Peggy catches herself. “That is, why me?”</p><p>“Well, you are already an exceptional codebreaker, Miss Carter. Someone must see a great deal of potential in you. It’s quite an honor to be tapped.”</p><p>No. No, no, no. Not now. Not while everything is fitting together in her hands. Peggy struggles with her words. “Yes, I-I see.” She looks down at the envelope again. She could barely keep her family together, with one foot in Buckinghamshire and the other in Hampstead. Everything she tells Michael in her letters is a big fat lie. <em>  And her? A spy? She could barely endure the German bombs hitting her country without violently flinching. </em></p><p>“I’m sorry Mr. Edwards, but <em> I don’t believe </em> I’m meant to be in the field.” </p><p>Mr. Edwards leans forward in his chair. “This is a rare chance for you to strike a massive blow, for king and country.”</p><p>Oh, god. “Yes, Sir.” She looks down at her ring. “I will discuss it with my fiancé. But, I’m afraid I’m simply <em> not cut out </em> for that type of work.” It would be of no use- sending her out to die.</p><p>And besides, she was doing more than enough by working at Bletchley. Being a spy and some sort of hero was a child’s dream. But she was not a child anymore. And she was no hero.</p><p>Tucking the envelope in her bag, Peggy shakes her head. Out of sight, out of mind. She lets her mind be swept up by codes. That afternoon, she tells her mum and Fred about the S.O.E. They all joke about the preposterousness over tea.</p><p>Well, if nothing, Peggy thinks, at least the dry jokes that came out of it raised her mother’s spirits for a sliver of a second.</p><p>***</p><p>They sit in the living room, discussing the wedding. Peggy’s aunts and cousins have all come over, and her mum has broken out the nice china set. Her grandmother has also come over, holding cake in her hands, and a small smile on her face. </p><p>Everyone dotes over Peggy, asking her to see the ring, and Peggy obliges, blushing furiously every time. </p><p>“How about a dress?” one of Peggy’s aunts asks, trading smiles with Mum. “Have you started shopping yet?”</p><p>Peggy smiles embarrassedly. “No, not yet. We’ve yet to buy Fred a ring.” </p><p>“Oho, Amanda,” one of her aunts murmured, “Have you started looking yet?”</p><p>Mum blushes. “No, I was thinking of going with Harrison on the weekend, actually.”</p><p>Nanna Rose speaks up, her sweet and quiet voice a stark contrast to the gossipy tone of the conversation. “So…” she says, a bit hesitant, “It is decided that you will buy the ring, then?”</p><p>“Yes, yes Mum, we want to give him a new ring.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>They continue gossiping about the wedding, about the color scheme and the people that will be there.</p><p>Gradually, all of Peggy’s aunts and cousins move into the kitchen, still chatting animatedly. Peggy finds herself sitting alone with her grandmother, who studies her with intelligent eyes. </p><p>The young bride plays with the ring on her finger as a distraction. It is quite a pretty ring, with a modest diamond settled into the band. </p><p>“Do you love him?”</p><p>“What?” Peggy looks at her grandmother, startled at the question that came out of nowhere. </p><p>Her grandmother waits, watching her with intelligent eyes.</p><p>There is a long silence, but Peggy admits, “No. I don’t really know. I mean, we’ve only known each other for a better part of  a few months. But I know I will be able to love him. Everyone says that marriage takes compromise, after all.”</p><p>Her grandmother purses her lips. </p><p>Peggy sits awkwardly, still playing with her ring. She’s been so keen on keeping an eye on it, ever since that one time she took it off to wash her hands, and Mum yelled at her. <em> What if it fell down the drain? What would we have done then? </em></p><p>Nanna sits up and moves to sit next to Peggy, gripping her pocketbook tightly. After a beat, Nanna opens it and pulls out a small velvet pouch, giving it to Peggy.</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>Confused, Peggy unties the strings to the pouch, and pulls out… a ring.</p><p>Then she recognizes it, the gleaming gold shining in the light.</p><p>“Is that grandpappy’s ring?” Peggy asks, cradling it in her hands gingerly.</p><p>Her grandmother doesn’t look at her, her hands clasped firmly together, as she turns toward the window. “Your Grandfather wanted to give that to you.”</p><p>Peggy stares at Nanna Rose, her mouth open wide. “I- isn’t this supposed to be papa’s?”</p><p>Nanna finally looks at Peggy, her eyes twinkling with amusion. “It was. Your mother fought for it. Your grandfather didn’t really want to give it up to your father.”</p><p>Well, Peggy thinks, she didn’t know there was a weird hostility between her maternal grandfather and her father. That explained a lot of awkward moments in her childhood. </p><p>“It’s a gift,” says her grandmother, softly. “It’s just a small gift.”</p><p>Peggy closes her hand over her grandfather’s ring, holding it properly in her hand. And her decision comes clearly to her, and as quickly. She will never give it to anyone. Because all she has left of her Grandfather are memories and faded pictures. His ring is the only thing she has of him.</p><p>No, Fred cannot have this. This. This is hers.</p><p>
  <em> *** </em>
</p><p>
  <b>SEPTEMBER 17, 1940</b>
</p><p>It’s easy to lose grip on time when you’re so engrossed, Peggy thinks frustratedly, as she packs up her codes. The rain was falling softly outside the window, and Peggy was in a bout of concentration, whipping through codes and transmissions the entire day, getting so much work done. </p><p>She'd just glanced at her watch a few seconds ago and had cursed loudly when she realized that if she didn’t get home in ten minutes, she’d be officially late. Yelping, Peggy jumps up and grabs the room’s codes. Ruth sits alone in the room with her, working the night shift, unfazed by Peggy’s panic. </p><p>Rushing out of the room and down the stairs of the great country house, her footsteps echo in the late night as she hurries to turn them into Hut 3. Peggy races outside, her feet sloshing in the icy mud, the papers shoved under her coat. </p><p>Peggy finally reaches Hut 3. Wiping the rain from her eyes, she barges inside the intelligence room, and deposits the papers on the counter. </p><p>Two officers sit there, next to maps and a mess of a desk. They look up and stare as she awkwardly waves at them and then rushes out. </p><p>Sprinting back to her room, Peggy curses as she checks her watch again. She was going to be late, and she was going to be in trouble with Joan. Huffing, she races up the many flights of stairs, desperate to get home quickly. </p><p>Reaching her floor, she stops and slows down. Her feet burn and her fingers are freezing, and she tries to rub them together to heat them up. </p><p>Peggy walks in the room, hoping to grab her purse and find some strength in her body to run all the way home and make it in time, when she notices another officer in the room, talking with Ruth. </p><p>“-can’t slip up anymore. There is no other way we can get him the reports, so you have to grit your teeth. We can’t have anyone suspici-”</p><p>Ruth notices Peggy staring frozen behind them, and shoots the officer a panicked look. The officer whips around, and with a bout of panic in his face, whispers, “shit!”</p><p>He grabs Peggy’s arm roughly and slams the door shut, sealing Peggy inside the room with them.</p><p>Peggy looks wide-eyed at Ruth, who glares at her. </p><p>“I thought you’d left?” Ruth says coldly. </p><p>“I- my purse,” Peggy gestures weakly to her desk. Ruth shakes her head, and the officer paces the room in clear frustration. </p><p>Peggy’s gaze flits from the officer to Ruth, the pieces slowly falling into place. Her reckless, stupid, idiotic mind blurts out, “Are you smuggling information?”</p><p>The officer violently slams Peggy against the door, pressing her down, one hand clamped around her mouth, and the other on her throat.</p><p>Spies, Peggy’s mind provides, <em> they are spies </em>. Mr. Edwards had informed them about the notice that spies may have infiltrated Bletchley. She just hadn’t thought much of it. </p><p>Now, as her heart pounds rapidly in her chest and panic setting in, Peggy turns to Ruth for explanation, her brain blanking on her. </p><p>“You will not tell <em> anyone </em>,” the officer growls in her ear, “You will not say a word about this to anyone. Because if you do, I will know, and I will make your life miserable.”</p><p>Hot tears spill out of her eyes, her throat tight, and Peggy is frozen, unable to move.</p><p>“Does she have any relatives, Ruth?” the officer hisses, while glaring at Ruth. Peggy’s eyes ducks under his gaze, tears flowing freely now. </p><p>“Three young nephews, I think. She lives with them,” Ruth replies. Peggy mentally scolds herself, <em> oh why did she tell everyone about her family? Why did she have to go blab her mouth?   </em></p><p>The officer forces Peggy to meet her eyes with his hand on her mouth. “Remember. Their lives are in your hands.”</p><p>Peggy nods, and he lets her go. She shakily makes her way to her desk, breathing heavily, grabbing her coat and her purse. She shoots a betrayed look to Ruth and hurries out. </p><p>Numbly Peggy hears Ruth assure behind her, “Girls like her are easy to scare. We’ll be fine.”</p><p>Once again, she rushes out of the room, pulling on her coat and hat. Peggy wipes her tears and tries to compose her face as she steps out of the building and onto the main road. The guards check her identity card, and she sets out onto the rainy street by herself. </p><p>There, she allows herself to cry - huge, gasping sobs flood out of her as she runs home. The cold rain comes down harder, soaking Peggy from head to toe, but she doesn’t care. </p><p>Peggy doesn’t know how much time has passed when she reaches Joan’s house. Slumping on the door frame, Peggy knocks, and the door immediately opens, excluding a burst of light, contrasting the bitter gray atmosphere outside. </p><p>“Where have you been?” Joan yells, baby Jackson sleeping in her arms. “I waited for you to come home, you’re an hour late! Do you know that, Peggy? Have you any sense of time?!”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” gasps Peggy, stepping inside, quickly weaving her lie. “I got caught up, the teachers held me back for something, it wasn’t my fault… and then the bus was gone so I had to run home…”</p><p>“Go upstairs and change,” snaps Joan, “You are dripping <em> everywhere </em>.... Wait. Are you crying?”</p><p>Peggy hurries upstairs, ignoring Joan. Reaching her attic room, she throws her wet coat in her laundry bag. Joan follows her, a look of concern overshadowing her angry face. </p><p>“Peggy,” she asks slowly, still holding Jackson, taking in Peggy’s wet features, her red eyes and shaking hands that lightly touch her throat, “Peggy did someone…”</p><p>The room grows quiet all for a second. And then Joan fills in the blanks, whispering, “Did someone harass you?”</p><p>Peggy hates how the tears start again as she nods. There is nothing else she can say.  </p><p>Joan’s eyes grow wide, and she puts Jackson on Peggy’s camp bed. Crossing her small room, she reaches inside Peggy’s dresser and pulls out a few dry clothes, while Peggy stands, dripping onto the wooden floor. </p><p>“You go take a hot bath, and I’ll make you some warm tea. But, Peggy-”</p><p>Taking Peggy’s hands, she looks into Peggy’s eyes. “Look,” Joan says again, hurriedly, “You can’t tell anyone about this, you’ll be ruined.” Peggy nods tearfully, squeezing Joan’s hand for the tiniest comfort. “...I mean, you have a wonderful fiancé, and if you tell anyone what happened, and this gets out… no one will want to marry you.”</p><p>Joan’s stricken face studies Peggy once more, and then moves to take Jackson in her arms again. “I’ll make the tea,” she says quietly, and leaves the room.</p><p>Peggy can only sink to the floor, crying in shame. </p><p>***</p><p>The next evening, Peggy once again takes Hugh and Peter’s small hands in hers as they make their way to the shelters. It’s freezing cold, and the boys whimper, burrowing themselves close to Peggy’s skirts. </p><p>They sit on the frozen underground tunnel, huddling for warmth. But Peggy’s mind can only whirl as they settle on the cold, hard ground. </p><p>She wonders if Ruth and the officer were Soviet Spies or German ones. The thought makes her shiver despite the biting cold of the night. The phrase ‘<em> hive’ </em> from her transmissions flits across her mind again, cycling through her consciousness as the <em> only answer </em>. Maybe they were communicating with that - whatever that was. </p><p>Peggy sits with her head in her hands as she ponders the destruction this could cause. What could Ruth have known? What if there were more spies? What if Bletchley Park was completely infiltrated?</p><p>Were they even safe? Was the work she was doing helping anyone anymore?</p><p>A rustling makes her look up. Aunt Jane made her way next to them, sniffling in her handkerchief.</p><p>Peggy furrows her brow. “Where’s Nanna?” she demands.</p><p>Joan hushes her, and Aunt Jane sits down properly. “Still at the bakery. She was just closing up.”</p><p>Peggy’s heart picks up again. “Still at the bakery? But-” Her eyes flit to the closed doors of the bunker.</p><p>Aunt Jane places her placating hands over Peggy’s trembling ones. “I’m sure she’s fine. She probably went to another shelter.”</p><p>Peggy doesn’t stop panicking though, anxiety swirling non-stop in her stomach. As German bombs fly over her country, dropping bombs on her land, an old man starts singing quietly.</p><p>Peggy doesn’t recognize the song, but everyone sits and listens as his shaky voice becomes stronger as the night wears on. </p><p>And eventually, she falls asleep to the sound of her country being bombed to its core. </p><p>She wakes up to Aunt Jane shaking her shoulder. Grabbing her bag and stuffing her blanket in it, Peggy blinks her sleep away and reaches for the twins. She pulls Peter in her arms, Aunt Jane holding Hugh closely behind her. </p><p>“We have to check on the bakery,” Aunt Jane tells Peggy and Joan, “And assess the damage.”</p><p>Panic replacing her sleepiness, they set off for the bakery, walking quicker as they see an increasing amount of rubble and broken buildings. They reach the half-standing bakery, and all they can do is stand with their mouths wide open. </p><p>Peggy snaps first, lowering Peter to the floor, and walking forward to step inside the bakery. Half of it is collapsed, including the place she remembers doing her homework with Grandpappy as a child. She walks to the counter, picking up the order book that had fallen to the ground. Rounding the counter, she gasps.</p><p>A woman lays there - <em> no, her Nanna lays there, spread on the floor, rubble on her body, blood flowing freely from her head. </em> And Peggy screams. </p><p>She doesn’t remember who pushes her back, outside the bakery, but she doesn’t remember anything. All she knows is that her throat closes up, making it hard to breathe-</p><p>***</p><p>The funeral is on a sunny day. Peggy stands quietly, a steady stream of tears sliding off her face, so much that it itches, her heart quietly breaking. Mary stands on her side, wearing a black dress as her mother sobs. </p><p>She hates this. Her throat closes up, and all Peggy wants to do is scream and throw a tantrum, yelling into the sky, <em> what did she do to deserve this? </em></p><p>Her sister’s hand anchors her to reality, but Peggy’s mind can’t help but flash back to all the small moments she had with Nanna. She’s desperate to never forget them, making a mental note of everything she felt in the moment, no matter how small.</p><p>In the end, all she holds are memories close to her chest. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>SEPTEMBER 22, 1940</b>
</p><p>Apparently Michael and Peggy’s father were to come home for a few weeks. Peggy’s mother gets excited and goes around planning an engagement party as a surprise. </p><p>She is met with nothing but happy smiles and proud aunts wherever she goes, all beaming at her ring. Peggy puts on a fake smile, one that physically hurts, but nevertheless. Her grandmother’s death hurts more than anything, and Peggy is barely able to hang on to reality, the urge to scream threatens to take her over. It’s only with distractions is she able to get through the day, and once she’s curled into a ball under the covers does she allow herself to cry.  </p><p>When Michael comes home, Peggy leaps into his arms in relief, nearly pulling them both to the ground. Then Peggy’s father comes back and they all have dinner together, Peggy feels a sense of security back in her life, like some sort of solid ground below her feet. But when Mum tells Michael of the engagement, his face gets weirder and weirder. Peggy ignores it. She is way too happy to have them back, way too happy for things to go back to somewhat normal again.</p><p>They sit late into the night, talking - Michael, Mary, and Peggy. It’s just like old times.</p><p>The next day is the engagement party. Mary, confident in her abilities, takes an old cloth and writes “Congratulations Fred &amp; Peggy!” with red paint, and then hangs it up in the front lawn. </p><p>Peggy makes sure to have Michael and Fred meet in front of her, having drinks outside in the lawn before the actual guests start to arrive.</p><p>“A toast!” she awkwardly jabbers, and raises her glass. “To my two favorite men, meeting at last.”</p><p>They all clink their glasses silently and then Fred kisses her cheek. She pinks, because her brother is <em> right there. </em></p><p>And then Michael says the most Michael thing in front of the <em> wrong </em> people. “Come on Peggy, slug it back. You won’t beat your older brother this time. I’ve been practicing.”</p><p>Part of Peggy wants to ask, has this what he has been doing? Drinking while he’s away at war?</p><p>But Fred is also <em> right there </em>, and she really needs to showcase a positive perspective to her future husband, so under her breath she hisses, “Michael, not here,” hoping he’ll catch the bloody message. </p><p>“<em> You </em> can do <em> that </em>?” Fred questions, despite Peggy’s efforts, and she tries to control the situation. </p><p>“Not recently,” Peggy comforts him and pats his arm. </p><p>She clears her throat, trying to fill the awkward silence. Michael is staring at Fred with a weird look in his eye, an air of perplexity creeping onto his features. </p><p>Fred saves the day. “So, Michael, tell me, how goes on in the front?”</p><p>Michael responds with an abhorrent amount of sarcasm dripping in his words. “Well, there are a lot of Nazis there and they tend to shoot at you a great deal. Apart from that, the scenery is <em> splendid </em>.”</p><p>Bloody hell. </p><p>Fred, bless him, doesn’t catch the sarcasm. “Do let me know, if there is anything you feel, the home office isn’t providing. I have a direct line to command. Consider me your <em> personal concierge </em>.”</p><p>“That’s very kind of you, Fred.” Michael sits awkwardly, almost dejected that his hit didn’t take, and twirls the whiskey in his glass around. </p><p>Peggy works to keep the conversation going.  “Did I tell you, I was recruited to be a spy?” she laughs out. Fred pulls her closer, his body pressing into hers.</p><p>“We turned them down, of course.” Fred says, playing up the finishing-phrases trope that couples usually have. </p><p>Peggy hums out a yes, trying to ignore how, that right now, she realized the decision was made for her, rather than making the decision herself. And something horrible swoops in her stomach, flipping her perspective upside down, an annoying thought breaching her mind.</p><p>
  <em> What if? </em>
</p><p>“Did we?” Michael asks, his voice unnaturally odd.</p><p>“Can you imagine risking life and limb behind enemy lines, doing God-knows-what? That's not our Peg.”</p><p>Peggy almost smiles. Fred, of all people, knew she’d never make the fall if she felt it was for nought. Maybe that’s why he was drawn to Peggy. Because she wasn’t a loose cannon.  </p><p>Because if Peggy were to make a decision, she would never do it recklessly. </p><p>And the fact remained, she was quite fine staying close to home, making sure the rest of her family got out of this alive - making sure she did the best work she could do at Bletchley. </p><p>Michael shakes his head, and Peggy looks down at her lap in quiet shame, for a reason she can’t understand.</p><p>“One thing I've learned from the war,” Fred says, plowing on as he raises his glass, “a boring life is a privilege.”</p><p>Which is thrillingly true. </p><p>They all finish drinking. “I’ll get us a top up, hm,” says Fred cheerfully, and struts off to find refills. </p><p>Peggy takes the time to lean into Michael and ask, “So, what do you think?”</p><p>“What does it matter what I think, you’re the one marrying him,” Michael says bitterly, playing with his hands. </p><p>Oh good lord. “<em> Of course </em> it matters, I want you to like him.”</p><p>Then Michael says something that she wasn’t expecting. “Why did you turn down the S.O.E. job?”</p><p>Peggy looks at Michael with wide eyes. “It… just wasn't the plan that we had for our lives.” <em> Wait, hold on, what </em>? “How did you know it was S.O.E?”</p><p>Michael doesn’t meet her eyes. “Because I recommended you.”</p><p>“<em> Michael. </em> You should have told me.”</p><p>“Look Peggy, I know you better than anyone else alive. And,”-he looks around and laughs, the fake play that was being put on- “this isn't what you want.”</p><p>Peggy turns defensive. “What is it that you think I want?”</p><p>“The same thing you wanted since you were a little girl - a life of <em> adventure. </em>”</p><p><em> She isn’t a child anymore </em>. “Well, I've grown up. My dreams changed.” And an adventurous life wasn’t in the cards of life Peggy had anymore. </p><p>“No, you've just let everyone else drum them out of you. Fred’s a nice enough chap, but be honest, is he the love of your life? Is this really how you see your future?”</p><p><em> Damn you, Michael, </em> Peggy thinks. Because he doesn’t understand. And he’ll never know what it’s like in her shoes; with only one choice given to her: to be a wife and to raise a family. She understood, at a very young age, that was her duty. </p><p>Instead she exclaims, “This is my engagement party, Michael!”</p><p>Michael isn’t discouraged. “But not your wedding day! Look,” he starts saying quietly, “there is still time to change your mind.”</p><p>Bloody hell. Peggy gets up and with mumbles out, “I don't have to listen to this.” </p><p><em> What will everyone think if she breaks off her engagement? </em> She made her bed - now it's time to lie in it. </p><p>Michael grabs Peggy’s arm and leans in close, “Don't worry what other people think - you are <em> meant </em> to fight. Stop pretending to be someone that you’re not.” </p><p>She rips her arm away and stalks off. Michael calls her name, but Peggy pretends not to hear. </p><p>She was already fighting. She’s been fighting her whole life. </p><p>She spends the entire party ignoring him, dodging him at every turn and plastering herself to Fred’s side. </p><p>Michael catches up to her when the party has reached its end, the guests all leaving. </p><p>She’s sitting on the old swing that is bolted to the side of the house, away from anybody’s lurking eyes and ears, turning Michael’s behavior around in her head.</p><p>He was being stupid, Peggy concludes.</p><p>The tap of boots startles her and pulls her away from her mind.  </p><p>“Peg-a-nog? Are you there?”</p><p>Peggy stares moodily at the ground, kicking her legs in an angry motion. </p><p>
  <em> Michael. </em>
</p><p>“Look,” Michael admitted, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Peggy doesn’t answer. Michael doesn’t give in though, and her silence only spurs him on. “I met this one lady,” he elaborated, pausing, sitting next to Peggy on the swing. “Vera Atkins. And when I met her, she reminded me of you.”</p><p>Peggy doesn’t say anything.</p><p>Quietly, Michael divulges, “She’s actually recruiting women spies to go into France. You used to go to France with Nanna and Grandpappy during the summers. You know the cities, and you know the language. I knew you could do it, so I recruited you.”</p><p>Peggy flinches. Going into a dead man’s land was not something she fancied. </p><p>Michael runs a hand through his hair angrily. “Peggy, are you even listening?-”</p><p>Peggy snaps her head up to meet Michael’s. “You don’t know,” she begins in fury, her eyes blazing, “You have no clue how it is for me.”</p><p>She hated pretending like everything was okay, when in reality, the world was on fire. Peggy knew those at home had to keep spirits high if they were going to win this thing, but it was becoming harder every day. </p><p>Michael purses his lips, slowly getting angry as well. But Peggy’s already on a roll. “I’m already doing the most I think can, <em> more than you </em> , actually, with <em> my work </em>-”</p><p>Michael stops her short, catching her slip-up. “Hold on. You’re not a teacher?”</p><p>Peggy glares at Michael. The lie slips out easier than ever. “Yes,” she fumes, “I am a teacher. Why would I lie to you?”</p><p>Silence overcomes them. Michael starts looking at her in a new light, and Peggy wants to smash something. She has to find a way to bring the truth about Ruth and the officer to light. </p><p>And for that she needs time. </p><p>Time, unfortunately, was never on her side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Operation Pied Piper was a real thing- many children were evacuated from London. Imagine that- it must be so scary. </p><p>Also Vera Atkins is a real person- she actually was the person in the S.O.E. who pushed for recruiting women for spies. </p><p>AND- there were actual spies in Bletchley, called the Cambridge Five, who were Soviet double agents. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. CHAPTER FOUR: OCTOBER 1940: All’s Fair in Love, (Anger) and War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peggy makes a decision.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO!</p><p>am i still writing even though no one is reading it? yes i am. </p><p>Also, I'm so proud of this chapter... Like so proud. Happy 100th birthday Peg!</p><p>Also tw: there is death and a tiny bit of torture- but nothing too graphic. </p><p>Enjoy reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>(Present Day; Peggy is 19 years old)</b>
</p><p>Dragging her bag behind her, Peggy slumps on the threshold of her house. She’s home for the weekend, but all Peggy wants to do is sink onto her soft bed and never move. Her shoulders sag under the stress of the war, and there is a pounding headache throbbing behind her eyes. Waiting for the door to open after knocking it weakly, Peggy allows her mind to wander about Ruth. And her choices.</p><p>Granted, said choices aren’t ideal. She could either tell somebody, which would risk her family. Or she could keep quiet, like a coward. </p><p>But what if Ruth cost them the war? She’d have to make that sacrifice then, stand up for Bletchley and tell someone - and hope no one she loves gets dangerously harmed. </p><p>Peggy falls slightly forward as the door opens, her beaming mother standing behind it. “Surprise!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up, looking extremely jubilant. </p><p>Peggy blinks and shakes her head lightly, her mind trying to catch up. “...What?”</p><p>“Mum! Get Peggy in here quick!” Mary yells from somewhere in the house. </p><p>“Come quickly,” chimes Mother, and she grabs Peggy by the shoulders and leads her inside the house, only stopping when Mary turns up, blocking their entrance to the dining room. </p><p>“<em> What’s going on </em>?” questions Peggy, staring at Mary, half panicking.</p><p>Mary, however, has a beaming smile, and drags Peggy into the dining room, on which the table has a...</p><p>A wedding dress. It’s still in a bag, but Peggy can see the layers of chiffon and lace, draped on the table in a billowy poof of cloth, the train a heap on the floor, the white a stark contrast to the brown furniture in the room. </p><p>“<em> Surprise! </em>” Mum and Mary exclaim behind her, jumping up and giggling. </p><p>Peggy’s mouth falls open. Walking slowly to the dining table, she lets her hands flutter over the skirt of the intricate dress. It looks too expensive for her to even touch her <em> own dress </em>. </p><p>“So?” her mother questions, nervously twisting her hands together. “How is it?”</p><p>Peggy can only gape, staring at her mother with her eyes wide open. “How did you…? We can’t get nylons or… powder for that matter. How did you find a whole <em> wedding dress </em>?”</p><p>“Come on, try it on!” calls Mary, still jumping up and down, interrupting them both. </p><p>All three of them take the dress upstairs into Peggy’s room, Mum also carrying a suspicious black bag. Peggy doesn’t dwell on it though. Her heart is currently breaking with conflicting emotions. On one hand, she thinks it is ridiculous to celebrate and dance for a set-up union when death has visited their door…</p><p>
  <em> -her Nanna lays there, spread on the floor, rubble on her body, blood flowing freely from her head- </em>
</p><p>Peggy shakes her head in denial, unconsciously shuddering and clenching her jaw. She takes a deep breath, righting herself. Pushing the sight of her grandmother's dead body with her ruby-colored blood on the ground out of her mind, she focuses on carefully going up the steps, making sure her wedding dress didn’t touch the ground. They reach Peggy’s bedroom, and Mary carefully lays the dress on the bed.</p><p>Hastily, Peggy blurts, “Let me shuck off my jacket, and then we’ll try it on.” She disappears into her bathroom before anyone can say anything, and locks the door.</p><p>Putting her purse on the counter, she quickly takes off her jacket and discards her shoes. Reaching under her blouse, she pulls out her grandfather’s ring strung onto a necklace. Taking it off, she pauses to squeeze the ring tightly in her fist, trying to keep the solemn memories from overtaking her attention, and then puts it in her purse, striping down to her shift.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, her heart demanding more air, she presses her cool hands to her warm cheeks. The little excitement she felt mere seconds ago flutters away, leaving dread and sadness in their wake.</p><p>She doesn’t want to do this. There is so much loss, the spaces of the people she once loved unoccupied, leaving horrible empty rooms with only the expectation of finding loved ones, painting an incomplete picture. People who were good and <em> loved </em> with their <em> entire soul </em> lived there. Yet there is no proof. </p><p>She doesn’t want to pretend like everything’s okay. </p><p>The day is warm and sunny, but Peggy wants to shiver at being so exposed when she steps out. Mother and Mary have already opened the zip of the wedding dress, and Peggy carefully steps into it. No one says anything as Peggy puts her arms through the sleeves, and as the dress zips up. It’s a perfect fit, and Peggy’s breath catches in her throat.</p><p>“Where did you even find something like this?” Peggy asks breathlessly, as her hands smooth the dress down. The intricate lace is soft and comfortable, the dress billowing out as it reaches her hips, making her feel like a princess. The neckline cuts at the perfect level, the decorative beading along the border of the neck and arms giving the illusion of diamonds. </p><p>Peggy stares at herself in the mirror. For once, she doesn’t look like an awkward teenager. She looks like a woman, more mature, more confident… more beautiful. </p><p>And bless her, the acne that was threatening her skin yesterday didn’t go nuclear overnight. </p><p>Mum looks overjoyed, and with tears in her eyes and hands clasped to her chest, she croaks, “Oh, you know, mothers have their secrets. Actually,” she says, turning serious again, dragging the black bag towards her, “Your Aunt Joan dropped these off. She thought you might want them.”</p><p>Mother pulls out a box and opens it. Inside, nestled in the velvet, is a modest diamond necklace with matching earrings. </p><p>Peggy gapes, speechless. No words came to her as she revels in the beauty of the jewelry. “It was Nanna’s,” Mum says quietly, “And we decided on this for a wedding present.” </p><p>Peggy’s throat grows uncomfortably tight. Her legs feel weak under the dress, and she feels the need to sit down. Immediately, the dress seems too heavy, the expenses too much. <em> Stop </em> , her mind helpfully yells, <em> stop talking! </em></p><p>“I- thank you.” Peggy manages, and then turns toward the mirror to compose her features. Taking a deep breath, she tries hard not to think about Nanna. Tries not to think about the wrongness of it all, wearing a dead woman’s necklace. </p><p>She changes her thoughts. The dress is perfect, fitting over her frame beautifully. She doesn’t have any urge to cover up by wearing a bigger sweater on top, or stand minutes on end in front of her closet, trying to pick the most comfortable outfit that might fill her...<em> unflattering </em> body. The dress hides all of her imperfectness and even tries to highlight the somewhat best of her. </p><p>It's perfect. Everything is perfect. </p><p>Yet it seems like the world is falling apart at its seams. </p><p>And somehow, it feels like she doesn’t deserve all this fanfare, pretending like everything was okay. Pretending like the world wasn’t flipped upside down with this war. Pretending like her mother didn’t have to go to a funeral for every other month for fallen people that they once loved.</p><p>She doesn’t know if what she’s doing is even right. She just feels so alone in her head. </p><p>There is a long silence, and then Mary sings, “Tiara time!” Carefully picking up the veil and the band attached to it, Mary brings it over to Peggy. Plastering on a smile, Peggy bends her knees a bit to allow Mary to fix the veil to her head. </p><p>Mum starts immediately crying after Peggy straightens herself. <em> Bloody hell. </em></p><p>“Mum, we can’t have you weeping all throughout the ceremony,” she says, but there is no heat to it, just happiness in her voice. </p><p>“Can I help crying when I’m happy?”</p><p>With that, Peggy's heart sinks, because she’s not at all happy. Dread fills her stomach once again, her belly doing flip flops. She doesn’t want to get married. She doesn’t want to leave her family for another’s. There is so much emptiness that she feels the need to fill. <em> And, </em> her consciousness provides, <em> she’ll only feel better once this war is over and the rest of her family are still alive. </em> </p><p>Peggy’s mind suddenly makes an awful connection. While she was still in college, her biology class spent a month on the human body. They had explored the chemicals that ran through the bloodstream, all gearing up to help the person function. It was a fascinating chapter.</p><p>One day, they had focused on the nervous system, especially about responses. </p><p>If the body was put through a situation where the stimuli around them was somehow threatening, the brain would activate the sympathetic nervous system. If the stress continued, it would lead to the flight-or-fight response. Adrenaline would run into the bloodstream, the heart would start beating rapidly, increase salivation, and so on. </p><p>Also, the teacher had noted, the bladder would relax, prompting urination. That made everyone in the class burst into embarrassed giggles. Now, Peggy doesn’t feel like laughing.</p><p>Peggy reckons she feels exactly like the textbook definition of the response. Her entire body is coiled up, ready for a fight. </p><p>Or to run away. </p><p>...She doesn’t know which one. </p><p>Instead of breaking down, she swallows and shoots a convincing smile toward her mother while facing the mirror. Peggy notices Mary looking solem, her hands on her cheeks, still and unnaturally silent.</p><p>Her mother continues rambling, oblivious to the somber moods. “Where is my blasted handkerchief?”</p><p>Peggy spots it on the dresser, and hands it to her mother. Spotting the proud look on Mum’s face, Peggy pulls her mother into a close hug, trying to keep the mood light. </p><p>She sighs, pushing down her anxiety. Peggy was just getting cold feet.</p><p>This was perfectly natural, according to practically <em> everyone </em>. She’ll be okay. </p><p>Just then, a horn from a car outside beeps and her mother quickly goes downstairs to check who it is. Peggy turns back to the mirror and stares at her feature, taking in the dress and trying to calm her intrusive thoughts. </p><p>It doesn’t work, though. Dark creeping anxiety lingers at the back of her mind, whispering some worst-case scenarios...</p><p>Peggy’s not one for praying, or even pretending to go to church, but she starts a silent mantra in her head. <em> Please, </em> she thinks desperately, <em> let Britain get a lead. Let them win a fight for a chance. Please. Wipe that smug smile off that Nazi arsehole. Let the good guys win, for once. Let these facist ideas be rejected, swirling down the drain of history, as a bad chapter, please.  </em></p><p>Peggy takes a moment, and then turns her attention to Mary who sits on her bed, watching Peggy with an odd look on her face.</p><p>“Mary?” Peggy asks, trying to be a proper elder sister, “You are being uncharacteristically quiet right now. Are you alright?”</p><p>Mary squirms a bit and then sighs heavily. “Will you move far away from us?”</p><p>Peggy's mouth opens slightly in shock. Mary isn’t one to mope around or have any sentimental emotions. “I- I suppose. Why, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing. I mean I’m excited about the wedding, but I don’t want <em> you </em> to leave.”</p><p>Peggy’s mouth twists into a small smile. “Well, I’m not leaving anytime soon. I’m staying right here.” She sighs and mumbles under breath, “Not like anyone would let <em> me </em> leave.”</p><p>Peggy turns back to the mirror and smooths down her wedding dress. “Could you run downstairs and ring Evelyn, please? I do want her opinion as well.”</p><p>Mary groans and gets up, hanging her head, and slumps to the door. Peggy smiles lightly at her sister’s antics.</p><p>Then from outside she hears her mother exclaim, “Stewart, who is it?”</p><p>Her heart rate picks up, and she tenses up for some unconscious reason, as if her mind knew what was about to unfold, telling her it was okay to be curious.</p><p>With her tightly coiled body, Peggy was somehow able to step toward the window with her tightly coiled body, peering at the scene developing at the front gate.</p><p>Everything seems to happen in slow motion. </p><p>
  <em> Army officers exit the car they came in.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Standing at attention, they take off their hats.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sees her mother faint in her father’s arms. </em>
</p><p>And she already knows, her brother is dead. </p><p>She doesn’t know what else to do but cry in shock. Choked sobs tumble out of her throat, and Peggy, whimpering her brother’s name, tries a uselessly desperate plea to get him back. </p><p>She can hear Mary rush into the room, and Peggy turns to face her younger sister. There is fear laced in Mary’s eyes, but the two sisters share no words. Peggy wipes her eyes, trying to compose her features for the sake of being some sort of rock for the family, but she fails as more sobs break through, setting Mary off.  </p><p>The two sisters just reach and hold each other tightly in their arms. </p><p>And the chasm of emptiness widens.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>August, 1926 (Peggy is five years old)</b>
</p><p>Peggy takes a deep breath, lightly closing her eyes shut. After a moment of collecting herself, she reopens her eyes and stares her obstacle in the face. She hears her Nanna lean down next to her, both of their faces at the same height. Different people swarm around them, all trying to get their own purpose in life completed. </p><p>“Do you have everything, Peggy, dear?”</p><p>Peggy nods, and grips the straps of her adventure pack. She had packed it with everything that would help her: a slingshot that Michael so thoughtfully got for enemies, an extra snack if she got hungry, and a book if she got bored. Or if she’s alone. </p><p>Horrified, Peggy feels hot tears suddenly well up in her eyes, her cheeks flaming. </p><p>“Oh, Peggy,” Nanna says softly next to her. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Peggy turns to her grandmother, ready to start bawling as she looks into the kind, familiar face gazing back lovingly at her. She doesn’t tell Nanna the truth, though, but instead cries, “Mumma put me in braids, and it feels uncomfy, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make her sad.” With that, Peggy bursts into proper tears. </p><p>Nanna has a small smile on her face. “That was very kind of you,” she says gently, wiping Peggy’s fat tears. </p><p>Peggy sniffs, and then her eyes catch onto something behind Nanna - a worm on the sidewalk. Her eyes widen. It had rained the night before, and so the wet ground made it seem as though all life had come out to say hello to her; the birds, the snails, and the worms. </p><p>Her temper fumes, and she pushes past Nanna. “Mister!” she calls to a man who was about to step on the poor worm a second ago, “Hey Mister!”</p><p>She rushes over and crouches down, carefully putting the worm back into the soft mud. Then she straightens up and puts her hands on her hips, craning her neck to look at the man. </p><p>“You were just about to commit an atrocity here, sir. Have some shame.” The man looks annoyed, his eyes glaring down at Peggy. </p><p>Finished with her task, she walks over to her Nanna again and the tears start rolling down her cheeks again. </p><p>Mother walks over to them then, holding baby Mary in her arms. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Margaret,” she snaps, looking at Peggy’s crying face. “It’s only Nursery School.”</p><p>Peggy’s chin starts quivering. Wiping her eyes purposely, she grips the straps of her adventure pack once again and walks forward, along with the other kids who are saying goodbye to their mothers. </p><p>“Be good, Margaret!” she hears her mother yell, and Nanna pipes up behind her, “Make some <em> friends </em>, dear.”</p><p>Peggy looks back, nods seriously, and walks the rest of the distance to the entrance of the school. Stepping inside, she looks around to all of the other five-year olds that play in the room. A group of girls are on one side playing with some dolls, and the boys fighting on the other. </p><p>Twisting her mouth, Peggy looks at the spot near the window. She could very well curl up and start reading, but no, her mission was to make some friends. </p><p>Looking around the room once again, her eyes fall on a small blonde girl, sitting on one of the desks, writing in a notebook. </p><p>Peggy shyly walks to her, and sits on the next desk over. She stays still in silence, gathering her nerves to talk. </p><p>In a burst of confidence, Peggy turns in her seat, and extends her outstretched hand. “Hello,” she squeaks, “My name is Margaret, but you can call me Peggy.”</p><p>The girl looks at the outstretched hand for a while, and Peggy can feel her face grow more red. Finally, she slides her hand in Peggy’s and shakes it. “My name is Elaine,” she clearly pronounces. </p><p>Peggy shoots Elaine a shy smile. Sniffing, she asks, “What are you writing about?”</p><p>Elaine takes a deep breath and glances at her notebook. “It’s a story,” she murmurs. “About a cowboy supergirl.”</p><p>Peggy gasps, her eyes lightening up, and scrambles to open her adventure pack. “I have something like that too,” she squeals gleefully. “A storybook about heroes.” She takes out a huge storybook, staggering under the weight as she tries to heave it onto the desk. </p><p>Elaine lets out a bashful smile, and leans in to whisper to Peggy, “Do you want to be desk partners?”</p><p>Peggy nods enthusiastically, her braids bouncing up and down as she does so. Both girls shake hands again and then quiet down as the teacher takes the front of the room. </p><p>“Settle down, children. Settle down!”</p><p>There is a flutter of movement and voices as everyone slips into seats, the girls sitting in the front, the boys in the back. A pair of boys slip in the desks behind the two girls, and Peggy recognizes them to be the boys fighting in the yard outside. Disgusted at the dirt and sweat on their skin, Peggy lifts her chin, attentive to the teacher standing in front, determined to be good. </p><p>“Good morning children! My name is Miss Josephine.” The teacher gushed, throwing open her hands. Peggy immediately liked her, with her bouncy red curls and long nails. </p><p>“Good morning Miss Josephine,” the children chorused back at her. </p><p>“Wow, look at all of these young faces! I can tell we’ll have a great year.” Miss. Josephine turns to the blackboard, a piece of chalk in her hand, and in loopy handwriting, writes the alphabet big enough for the class to see. </p><p>Peggy turns to Elaine, and they both smirk. <em> This is going to be easy </em> , Peggy thinks, <em> Grandpappy already taught me this ages ago.  </em></p><p>And then, Peggy feels a tug on one of her pigtails. Scrunching up her nose, she turns around to glare at the boys sitting behind them, looking mischievous. Shooting them her best disgusted look, Peggy turns to the front, determined to be good. After all, Nanna expected a full mission report afterwards. </p><p>She feels another sharp tug and she ignores it. Glancing sideways at Elaine, Peggy can tell that the boy sitting behind her was also tugging at her braids. </p><p>After a few moments, Peggy slumps, relieved, because the tugging has paused. Her hair is too short to bring her braids to the front, but Elaine does, her two braids lying on her chest now. </p><p>But just then, there is a particularly large tug on her braids, and Peggy loses it. Swiveling around in her chair, Peggy arches her brow, like she’d seen Mummy do. “I’ll only tell you once,” she whispers, “Stop it.” The boys don’t look in any way embarrassed, and Peggy can only stick out her tongue, and turn back into her seat, trying to follow the lesson. </p><p>Peggy tries really hard to listen to Miss Josephine, she really does. But after another large tug, something inside of her snaps, and she grabs her storybook, whirls around, and smacks the boys to the floor. <em> “Don’t touch us!” </em></p><p>After two satisfying smacks, Peggy hears gasps across the classroom. She looks up, meeting Elaine’s eyes, horrified.</p><p>“<em> Miss Carter! </em>”</p><p>Peggy slowly turns around, and shyly meets Miss Josephine’s eyes. Behind her, one boy is weeping loudly, effectively setting the mood for the day. </p><p>With a hard glance at Peggy, Miss Josephine snaps, “Go stand in the corner, I’ll deal with you later.”</p><p>Hanging her head in shame, Peggy blinks rapidly as she moves to stand in the corner of the room. Her cheeks heat up as she listens to Miss Josephine check the boy. </p><p>Anger races through her veins corrupting her every thought. But behind that, there is a tiny bit of fear, because she doesn’t feel guilty for hurting that boy. All she can feel is sweet revenge.</p><p>She stands in the corner, eyes blazing for fury- and she knows she's right. Nanna and Grandpappy always said to do what was right.</p><p>And the boy got what he deserved. </p><p>***</p><p>“Peggy dear, that was completely uncalled for,” Miss Joesphine says gently much later, when all of the kids have gone out for break. Peggy looks calmly into Miss Josephine's eyes, arching her brow once again. </p><p>Miss Josephine sighs and pulls Peggy closer, trying to be nice. “Good girls are <em> not </em> aggressive.”</p><p>“But he was wrong,” Peggy states firmly, her lips pursed. “He was hurting me, and I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen.”</p><p>Miss Josephine shakes her head and mutters, “One thing you need to learn as a woman, Peggy, is that boys will be boys. And besides, everyone knows that if a boy tugs on your pigtails-” she gives Peggy’s braid a light tug- “it means they <em> like </em> you.”</p><p>Peggy’s not impressed, and levels Miss Josephine with a glare worthy of her mother’s. “I’d prefer chocolate,” she declares hotly, and then marches back to her desk and opens her story book. </p><p>***</p><p>Michael Carter waits patiently for his mother, his hands clasped behind his back, but his body is full of nervous energy. He stands in the kitchen, looking at his mother with hopeful eyes. </p><p>Amanda Carter smiles as she looks at her growing boy - he’s almost nine years of age now - and she wonders how quickly time has passed. </p><p>She hands her darling boy a black box, and smiles as his face gleefully lights up.</p><p>“Thank you, mother! I’ll put this in my bag,” Michael cheers, and then runs past his mother up the stairs. It felt like every atom in his body was thrumming with excitement, dancing underneath his skin. He stops in the upstairs hallway, walking slowly now, and opening a box. </p><p>Inside sat a classy watch - exactly like the ones grown ups wore. Michael pumped his fist. He was going away for a boarding school in London, to a school with more interesting classes and more boys to play with. </p><p>Smiling to himself, he made his way into his room, and stopped short, because half of his books and coats were piled on his bed instead of in his suitcase, where they were supposed to be. Michael frowns. He distinctly remembers putting his notebooks inside his suitcase. Placing the watch on his bedside table, he goes to investigate, and zips open his suitcase. And he immediately solves the mystery.</p><p>Because, instead of where his coats and notebooks are supposed to sit, lies his baby sister, Peggy, all curled up and clutching a small bag to her chest.</p><p>“Peggy!” Michael exclaims, hurriedly pushing Peggy upright.</p><p>“Top of the day to you, Michael. Oh boy, it sure was stuffy and dark in there!” That sentence, Michael thinks, is very odd being said by a five-year old girl sitting in his suitcase. </p><p>Michael's eyes are comically large, and his brain melts. “What were you doing in there?</p><p>Peggy frowns, confused. “Going on an adventure,” she says plainly, like Michael is really stupid.</p><p>Michael’s mouth doesn’t close. “Why were you in my suitcase?”</p><p>Peggy’s eyebrows rise. “That is a secret.”</p><p>Michael waits, crossing his arms and glaring at his little sister.</p><p>Peggy cracks under her elder brother’s gaze and slumps, immediately looking distraught. </p><p>“Please Michael,” she wails, “let me go with you. I promise I’ll be good. I’m small enough to hide in your bag!” Pausing for a bit, Peggy thinks quickly, and then whispers, “I could help you with all your schoolwork by hiding in your backpack. You could become <em> so </em> popular with the <em> ladies </em> and charm them with your big brain.”</p><p>Michael relaxes, a hit of smile playing on his face. “Peggy… don’t be ridiculous. And by the way, don’t you have your own school to attend?”</p><p>Peggy groans, trying to mask the tears that spring up to her eyes. “They are so mean! Everyone hates me, and I <em> already </em> know that alphabet so it's not a big deal anyway.”</p><p>“<em> I know, </em> Peggy. Here,” Michael says, helping Peggy out of his cramped suitcase, “Get comfortable- oh, you packed for yourself as well!” He tugs Peggy’s pouch out of her hands, opens it, and promptly starts laughing. </p><p>“What is this, Peggy?” Inside had an assortment of stuff; a doll, a piece of pie inside a plastic wrapper, a pencil, and their mother’s pocketbook. </p><p>Peggy raises her chin, determined not to go down without a fight. “If you don’t take me with you, I’ll run away into the jungle and live there. Like Tarzan.”</p><p>Michael’s eyes light up, and he throws his head back, giggling. Peggy cracks a smile. </p><p>Stomach growing now, Michael takes the pie out of Peggy’s bag, splits it, and offers half to Peggy. “Let’s make a deal. You stay here, close to Mother, but - you have to investigate the case of the monster in the attic.”</p><p>Peggy just rolls her eyes. “It’s just Papa’s snores.”</p><p>“No,” Michael says, “It's a mystery, remember?” Taking on a mysterious voice, he whispers, “We have to defeat the evil that lurks in our house, and make sure he doesn’t eat<em> baby Mary up </em>.”</p><p>Peggy gasps. “Oh no, Sir Michael! I shall defend our castle!” She stands up, putting her hands on her hips, looking heroically at her brother.</p><p>Michael spurs on, encouraged, “I’ll check the<em> forbidden library </em> at my school and do some research. I need you to be on the ground, investigating the clues. Deal?”</p><p>“Deal.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>(Present Day)</b>
</p><p>The funeral goes okay. Peggy wears the same black dress she wore to Nanna’s funeral, and she felt as if she was being choked yet again. There was anger rather than the expected sadness underneath her skin, bubbling hot, ready to explode at any second. </p><p>Her hands come up to wrap around her necklace, the one that has Grandpappy’s ring strung on it. Her fingers come to trace the engraving inside that said quite plainly:<em> faith </em>. Peggy remembers her late grandfather’s approach to every day - how he’d have so much faith in life. </p><p>Too late for that, Peggy thinks. </p><p>If their guests notice Peggy’s thundering mood, they don’t say anything. Joan comes with her three boys, and all of them shyly hug her with their tiny bodies wrapping around her legs, baby Jackson coming to sit in her arms.</p><p>He’s so teeny, his eyelashes fluttering as he sleeps, and Peggy has half a mind to put her family on a boat and squirrel them away to Canada.  Away from here, away from <em> all this </em>. </p><p>Fred’s family comes as well, along with Evelyn, Elaine, and Helen, all three who envelope her in a hug that lasts for a long time. They all look at her with pitying eyes and say the most useless and baseless thing anyone said to her; <em> I’m sorry for your loss. </em> </p><p>Sorry for what? War? <em> Death? </em>Everything that’s out of her control?</p><p>After the lunch, Peggy excuses herself to the kitchen, and starts scrubbing the dirty dishes, trying to be some sort of useful, her anger urging productivity. She hears the soft smattering of voices behind her, the people trying to engage her parents in some sort of pathetically comforting small talk. She hears the cooing of Evelyn and Helen over baby Jackson and a fork nearly bends in her hands. </p><p>Elaine comes to stand near her and quietly gets a dishcloth to start drying. Annoyed, Peggy reaches for the kitchen radio and dials to the news channel, trying to distract her brain. </p><p>They work in silence as the advertisements play, and then a man’s voice crackles over the speaker. </p><p>“<em> Here is the news and this is Alvar Lidell reading it. We have reached the end of the Battle of Britain, with many casualties… </em> ” Peggy’s brain tunes out the radio, only catching a few works as she scrubs a cast iron, “ <em> Winston Churchill released a statement this morning regarding the Nazi-occupied France… Britain and her troops stand alone, fighting for their lives… </em>”</p><p>Peggy throws her rag down with a huff, and rests her hands on the counter. “This isn’t working,” she mutters. </p><p>Elaine stays quiet, looking at her in silent apprehension. </p><p>Peggy sighs, and goes on, too worked up to even stop. Her eyes automatically go to her engagement ring as she fumes. “<em> Everything </em> we are doing is not working. We are losing, horribly, to a man in a stupid mustache.”</p><p>Elaine lets out a small humpf of air. Twisting her mouth, she counters, “Churchill’s in charge now. We’re in safer hands.”</p><p>Peggy shakes her head, thinking quickly. “Not quickly enough. The strategies we’re using are doing the job well, but it's naive to suggest that we’ll win just because we have a new Prime Minister, we’ve got to be smarter…” she trails off, a thought crossing her mind that makes her struck dumb. </p><p>Even when dead, Michael always found solutions to her problems. He left her with <em> a choice </em>. </p><p>“There she is.”</p><p>“What?” Snapping out of her thoughts, Peggy looks at Evelyn inquisitively, her mind still recalling the invitation on her dresser drawer. She’s reminded of the same moment from over a year ago, when she was still pondering over the decision to go to Bletchley Park. Somehow, that seemed like simpler times.</p><p>“The girl I know,” Elaine says quietly, looking over her shoulder to the guests standing in the living room, “The one that made it her mission to prank all of her teachers. The one that made all of her friends join a séance for <em> Queen Persephone </em> of Hell in the middle of the night, and then jumped into the lake fully clothed. And the one that challenged <em> all </em> the knuckleheads around here to a game of chess when they were too far up their arses, and got them to agree to a bet to stay away from us. <em> That </em> Peggy.”</p><p>Peggy’s mouth falls open, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Those two don’t even correlate. I- I’m talking about two separate things here-”</p><p>Elaine shakes her head. “No. I’m talking about your <em> confidence </em>. It’s back.”</p><p>Peggy bites her lips, her mind whirring. Her gaze flicks to the people standing in the living room, talking to each other in hushed tones, not daring to speak up. Her eyes flick to her mother’s, who is barely able to hold it together, Mary following closely behind. </p><p>Elaine observes Peggy, and follows her gaze. Shaking her head, Elaine murmurs, “Who are you trying to be? Them? Don’t.”</p><p>Peggy meets Elaine’s eyes, and she is reminded of when they were younger; Elaine quietly sitting next to her at school when no one else would. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Peggy straightens her back and grabs Elanie’s hand. Squeezing it, she quietly whispers, “Thank you, Elaine.”</p><p>Swerving around, she walks out of the kitchen with her head up high and her mind made up. Her heart is pounding with anticipation, rather than nerves. Making sure she didn’t tread on the squeaky steps, Peggy takes the stairs two at a time, hastily making her way to her room. Without any hesitation, she grabs the S.O.E. envelope from her dresser and smoothly shuts herself inside her bathroom. Taking a deep breath, Peggy Carter opens the envelope. </p><p>She stares at the papers laying on the counter. Introductory letter. General Information Forms. Health Forms. The Last Will and Testament.</p><p>She clutches a pen in her hand, and for the first time in a long time, everything is horribly calm. Blocking out the noise downstairs, Peggy lowers her pen and calmly starts filling out what she knows, her behavior akin to that of working at Bletchley. Restrained. Riveted.  </p><p>She has a plan. It’s fine.</p><p>She fills out her general information and forges her father’s signature. Pen hovering over the two checkboxes; married or unmarried, Peggy purses her lips and checks unmarried. </p><p>She’s done with their relationship; this lifestyle she was trying so hard to preserve, built on nothing but Mother’s hopes. It doesn’t matter anymore. Not when Michael’s dead.</p><p>A knock on her bathroom door shakes Peggy out of her thoughts. She meets her own shocked face through the mirror, swallows, and says rather shakily, “Yes?”</p><p>“Love?” her mother’s voice says, “Are you alright? Why do I hear so much… paper?”</p><p>“Er-” Peggy’s face goes horribly red, and out of the blue, she says, “Er- I’m on my monthly. It’s the… packing that’s making all that noise.”</p><p>“...<em> Oh </em>.” Peggy can tell her mother is embarrassed behind the door, as always happened when topics like these would come up. </p><p>Staying completely still, Peggy waits until her mother’s footsteps signal that she left. </p><p>***</p><p>When she finishes the forms, Peggy tucks the papers in the tiny envelope yet again, and puts it carefully in the secret compartment of her small jewelry box. Inside also sits a small notebook- one she remembers scribbling in when she was younger, and then promptly forgetting its existence. Trying to quiet her loud brain, she takes her pen and opens to the first clean page. On the top, she clearly writes: <em> H.I.V.E </em> . Underneath, she goes on: <em> Ruth + Some Officer (with round face and green eyes) </em>. Once that isn’t looming in the back of her mind, she gets a second of peace.</p><p>Everything will work itself out. </p><p>...She hopes. </p><p>She’s just putting that away when Evelyn shows up at her door, a folded napkin in her hand. </p><p>Peggy turns, stiffly looking at her from the middle of the room, the black dresses they both wear clashing horribly with the surrounding environment, which is all white and pastel colors. </p><p>“Hey, Peg-a-nog?” Evelyn murmurs, a hopeful look on her face. She extends the folded napkin she had in her hand to Peggy. “I found some chocolate sponge. We could share it if you’d like.”</p><p>Peggy loses all of her composure then, a sob escaping her throat. Her knees buckle, and Evelyn catches her. They both move to sit on the edge of Peggy’s bed, their backs towards the door, the cloudy day impersonating their moods through the window they face.</p><p>Peggy cries on Evelyn’s shoulder, her hands gripping Grandpappy’s ring, the hot tears racing down her cheeks as she lets go and her heart breaks into a million pieces yet again, filling her chest with sharp shards of glass that pinch her with every breath she takes. All she has left are black and white fading memories, and she feels so alone. Her mind tries to remember every single moment, but it’s too hard, and her conscious staggers under the weight of memories, letting some slip through her arms like mere sand grains.</p><p>“I’ve been <em> awfully mean </em> to you all, haven’t I?” Peggy whimpers. </p><p>“Oh, of course not Peggy!” </p><p>“I’ve just been so <em> angry </em> for a <em> long time </em> .” Peggy sighs, “And I’m afraid I’ve not been so nice. And I’m so tired of all this parade, and I’m so tired of being useless, and I’m just <em> so tired </em>.” Her voice breaks, and she sobs harder, feeling ugly, pieces of herself cut open and spread out for everyone to see. </p><p>Evelyn just holds her tighter. “It’s alright. Just cry it out.”</p><p>***</p><p>Huffing as she looks at the watch Nanna gave her, Peggy picks up her pace. If <em> they </em> didn’t change their schedule, Peggy could catch her during lunch.</p><p>Peggy awkwardly shuffles on the pavement, doing a half walk-run. </p><p>The houses along the road are destroyed, smoke coming up from some desolated beams and rubble. People sit outside their old homes, only with a cup of watered down old tea and one or two belongings. The kids don’t play on the roads like they used to, but dig into the rubble to find pieces of their broken toys. Jealous eyes bore on her figure, with her warm and clean clothes, the look better suited on the richer roads. Peggy tamps down the feeling of injustice and guilt, hurring on, her throat getting horribly tight. </p><p>Finally, the view of her old school comes into view. Readying her identity card, Peggy walks with her chin up, past the gate, pretending like she belonged there. </p><p>No one acknowledges her as she walks into her old college. The place still smells the same, but Peggy keeps walking, her heart in her throat as she makes her way down the familiar hallways, taking her back to the first time she walked in the building, the excitement and the buzz of the moment making the day bright, back when things were simpler. She remembers the old memories, back when her life wasn’t flipped upside down, back when she felt she had a voice. Back when the only thing she had to worry about was to convince Mummy and Papa that this was a good idea. Still, Peggy moves on, her feet automatically taking her to Madam Elena’s room. </p><p>Reaching the door handle, her hands are surprisingly still as she pushes the door open. Inside, a few college girls sit, desks pushed together as they talk. Peggy nods her head in acknowledgement, and then promptly beelines to her old teacher’s office. Gathering some courage, Peggy pokes her head inside the office, just like she did, so many years ago. </p><p>“Peggy!” Madam Elena exclaims as she sits at her desk, surrounded by many papers to grade. Her hair is a bit grayer now, but other than that, everything is frighteningly familiar. Peggy can tell, by the large window opposite her, that it had already started to rain. The room is encased in yellow light from old lightbulbs, with the books that used to line the walls, already pulled out and stacked on the floor. </p><p>“Madam,” Peggy acknowledges, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Hello.”</p><p>Her old teacher ushers her in. “This is a surprise!” Glancing down at Peggy’s ungloved hands, her engagement ring glinting, she arches a brow. “And quite a lot has happened, hasn’t it?”</p><p>Peggy nods, smiling in quiet amusement. “I… actually came in here for a favor.”</p><p>Her teacher looks at her and nods, putting her pen down, leaning back in her chair, and waiting. </p><p>“I was wondering…” Peggy says anxiously, “ if I could use your office address for something.”</p><p>Madam Elena furrows her brows. “What for?”</p><p>Stilling for a moment, Peggy just looks at her teacher. Wonders for the last time if she can trust her. In the end, Peggy swivels around and locks the door closed, then gingerly sits on the chair across from her Madam. </p><p>She clears her throat. Choosing her words carefully, she starts speaking. “There is an organization that is recruiting for me to be a spy. I have decided to join. But no one can know.”</p><p>Madam Elena looks sympathetically at Peggy. “Because they’ll talk you out of it.”</p><p>“Exactly. And I’m <em> sure </em> of my decision. It’s not cold feet, it’s not nerves. But no one will understand. Which is why I need your help.”</p><p>Madam Elena has a weird look in her eyes. “Of course,” she whispers, when the room has gone strangely quiet. “I’ll help you.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“This is quite strange, you know.” Madam Elena says, her tone more cheerful now. “Not many kids will come to their old teachers for this type of problem. But then again, you were always unconventional.”</p><p>Peggy smiles bitterly. “You are the only person who’s left alive that has faith in me, Madam.”</p><p>Madam Elena leans forward at that. “You completely sure this is the right decision? That this is what you want to do? Because once you… do whatever you are going to… there’s no coming back.”</p><p>Peggy squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m tired of this bubble,” she whispers, dread and pain swirling in her veins, so much so that it feels like it replaces blood. “I can’t stay silent, like everybody else. If this is a war about simple morality, then I’m going to fight it. Because <em> they </em> are wrong. And I swear, if I can save a couple of other families the heartache of death, I’ll do it. So. Will you help me?” </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>July, 1927 (Peggy is six years old)</b>
</p><p>“Mother, where’s Peggy?” Michael asks, his hands fidgeting. He’s finally back home, and the house sounds suspiciously quiet.</p><p>“In the nursery, dear,” his mother calls, preoccupied with cutting up vegetables for supper. Michael frowns. </p><p>“She’s not there, Mummy. And neither is Mary.”</p><p>His mother finally looks up, her eyes slightly wide. He knife clatters onto the cutting board. “What do you mean?” she says, but doesn’t wait for an answer. She pushes past Michael and makes for the stairs. </p><p>“Mary!” she calls, her voice wavering, “Margaret!” Both mother and son exchange panicked gazes when no sound comes back. Both of them check the house from top to bottom, but there is no sign of the girls. They both burst outside, breathing heavily. </p><p>“The park!” Michael exclaims, “Peggy could have gone to the park.”</p><p>“With Mary?” Mother exclaims hysterically. </p><p>Michael takes off running. His younger sisters are nowhere to be found, and Mum’s growing desperate. <em> If he finds Peggy and Mary, </em> Michael prays desperately, <em> he’ll play with them all the time. He won’t be annoying and push them away. </em></p><p>They get to the park, both mother and son hysterically yelling for the girls. Michael’s fast. He runs around and looks in the bushes while his mother talks to a police officer, who is rather surprised at the abrupt outburst on a usually quiet day. </p><p>Looking around hurriedly, Michael spots a small binky dropped on the ground, off to the side of the pavement. </p><p>He picks up the binky with shaky hands, his mind jumping ahead of itself, assuming the worst. There is a small opening in the bushes near the park that leads to the tiny forest. He doesn’t think, but pushes forward, following the small trail, but big enough for a kidnapper, perhaps, to squirrel two small girls away from sight. The bushes scrape his arms as he makes through the obsolete trail, his heart pounding in his chest, afraid of what he’ll find.</p><p>The bushes finally clear out, Michael now in a small forest. He takes off at a run now, yelling Mary and Peggy’s name loudly. It's still sunny, and he can faintly hear the policeman and his mother yelp as they try to catch up. </p><p>Michael runs, the wind howling in his ears, the sun glaring on the back of his neck. He looks around wildly, the pulse on his neck beating so loudly that it fills his senses. If his sisters weren’t here, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. </p><p>Just then, he hears murmured voices. Michael’s spirits soar, and he turns toward the voices. Cutting through the trees, the eldest Carter finds a clearing with a small lake.</p><p>Near the lake though, Michael’s brain short circuits, because two sticks are propped up, on top which hangs a bedsheet… <em> his </em>bed sheet. A poor old man sits next to it, wearing an old tattered army uniform, and loosely holding a wooden sword. Baby Mary sits next to him on a blanket, a huge spoon in one hand, and a box of ice cream in another. Her mouth is completely lathered with ice cream, and she looks absolutely delighted. “Ceem!” she calls jubilantly, when her eyes land on Michael’s shocked face. </p><p>The old man notices Michael, and he scrambles to his feet, dropping the sword. “Oh, thank god,” he gasps, “Please help me find these poor girls’ parents. I- I didn’t know what to do, the elder one just kidnapped me…”</p><p>At that moment, a yell arises, and Peggy comes charging out of the trees. “<em> Who disturbs us? </em>” she yells, holding a sword. She’s wearing a mauled nightdress, half of which is ripped off to form a makeshift headband. Mud is applied on the face in an obvious attempt at war paint, and there is a wild look in her eyes.</p><p>Horrified and half scared, Michael takes a step back. </p><p>Peggy finally notices him, and lowers her sword. “Oh,” she stage-whispers, “Sir Michael!” Peggy throws up her hands, “Come join us to fight the<em> evil that lurks in the kingdom. </em>” </p><p>Mother and the police officer finally catch up, and they too stop short. The old, haggard man tries to make a beeline for Mother. She flinches when the man gets too close, and the policeman steps in between them.</p><p>Peggy, though, steps forward. “It’s okay, Momma. He’s our brave Colonel, here to help us fight the evil! That’s why I gave him the sword.”</p><p>From behind the chaos, Baby Mary looks undisturbed. “Ma!” she yelps happily, lifting her spoon, “Ceem!”</p><p>Their mother finally snaps. “<em>MARGARET ELIZABETH CARTER! </em>”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>SEPTEMBER 9, 1940 (AT HIS MAJESTY’S NAVY HEADQUARTERS)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>(A MONTH BEFORE M. CARTER CONCLUDED K.I.A.)</b>
</p><p>Michael sits down, holding the letter his mother sent him, while dangling a cig in his hand. They had just finished a mission, and now he was back home on solid ground, only to hear that Peggy had apparently found a life partner. Whatever <em> that </em> meant. </p><p>He sits on the benches outside of his General’s offices, puffing his cigarette. A woman steps out of the rooms, looking noticeably tired. She lowers herself on the same bench Michael was on, and leans back against the wall. </p><p>“General Weston giving you a hard time, Miss Atkins?” Michael calls in an attempt to make casual conversation as they wait.</p><p>Atkins shakes her head, a few wisps of her hair coming undone. “You’d think he’d trust General Buckmaster after a month of working together. But that man’s stubborn as a mule.”</p><p>“He gets the job well done, though.” Michael says, folding his mother’s letter. “Any news from France?”</p><p>Atkins shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to push for more female spies. But they won’t listen. We have to be smart about this.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“If you have any recommendations, do send them my way. I’m off to bed.”</p><p>“Sure will, Miss Atkins.” Michael leans back against the wall, his eyes to the ceiling. A wave of exhaustion hits him, and he yawns widely. Rolling his shoulders in an attempt to ease the pain in his back, the eldest Carter looks out onto the sky, where the sun is currently setting. The yellow glow washes over him, encasing him in bright light, and Michael relishes the sun. He just wishes that the whole bloody war was over - and then he’ll watch the sunsets everyday, relishing it. He’ll never take nature for granted again, he’s seen too much destruction in the front. </p><p>Sighing, Michael glances. back at his mother’s letter. A thought occurs to him, maybe a side effect of exhaustion, hitting the eldest Carter over on the head, painfully obvious. </p><p>Michael leaps up and bounds after Vera Atkins, with a surprising burst of energy. </p><p>“What is it, Carter?” she says sleepily after he meets her on the steps. </p><p>“I’ve got a recommendation, Miss Atkins. Margaret Carter.”</p><p>She frowns, and he reiterates. “My sister. She’s been to France a couple of times.”</p><p>“Carter,” Atkins starts, “I don’t know-”</p><p>“Here me out, ma’am. I know that she can do it. Just give her a chance. Put her through training, and see if she comes out on top.”</p><p>Atkins stares at him for a long moment. “You’re an odd man, Mr. Carter. Not many would recruit their sister into war.”</p><p>“I know.” Michael says, “But the fact is that she knows how to <em> survive. </em> And she has always done what is necessary for the moment. She has always done what she thought would help her win <em> or get on top </em>. And I think that is what you need. Someone who is willing to do what is necessary.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>(PRESENT DAY; OCTOBER 1940)</b>
</p><p>A few days later, Peggy stands in front of her bathroom mirror once again, a pair of scissors in her hand. Her hair is wet, cascading down her back after her shower. Slowly and methodically, she cuts the strands so they touch her shoulder instead of being a tangled mess on her back. </p><p>There’s no going back.</p><p>Peggy waits the entire night for the morning. Her suitcase was already packed two days ago, filled with all the specific requirements the S.O.E. had sent back. She puts on a plain blue dress and puts her hair in an updo fit for wartime. </p><p>A different S.O.E envelope sits on the dresser, and she finally pulls off her ring and exchanges the two. Fred will live; he’ll be able to move on, Peggy has no doubt. He’ll find another girl, better suited to be his traditional wife than Peggy ever was. And she knows, deep down, that she has no desire in being his accessory, to be molded into something that would make him some sort of prince charming. </p><p>She was put on this earth for a reason, loyal to the first arms that held her when she was born, a fire raging inside of her, demanding to let itself out. </p><p>She catches herself in the mirror and searches for the woman she is, and the girl she used to be. </p><p><em> Who are you? </em> the mirror seems to ask.</p><p>
  <em> I don’t know. </em>
</p><p>Sighing, she grabs her trunk and looks around her room. It would be the last time she ever saw it. Peggy doesn’t think she’ll ever come back. With luck, she’ll be able to die with dignity. </p><p>She had left an envelope on her bed, shortly stating where she went. One letter for mum, one letter for Mary. A negligent way to say goodbye.</p><p>Peggy escapes from the back garden and speed walks out of the neighborhood. It would do no good to be caught by a nosy neighbor. </p><p>Peggy spies Elaine sitting in a white car down the road. She’s wearing a brown tweed cap with her feet up on the dash. Next to her sits Charlotte, wearing a distinguished army uniform, her corkscrew curls tightly tied into a bun, a smile always on her round face. </p><p>Peggy quickly puts her suitcase in the backseat and smoothly slides in. </p><p>“Happy that you decided to join us today,” Elaine drawls, feet up on the dash, “Where to, ma’am?”</p><p>“Shut up, Elaine,” Peggy says as Elaine laughs, “And let’s get out of here before someone notices I’m gone. And I don’t want you to get in trouble with me. And <em> hello </em>, Charlotte. It's been a long time.”</p><p>“Hello Peggy!” Charlotte voices as Elaine makes her way out of the neighborhood. Peggy only begins to relax once they get on the motorway. She still keeps looking back, half expecting to see her mother following her. </p><p>Charlotte’s dreamy voice cuts through Peggy’s thoughts. “Guess who got promoted to be an ambulance<em> driver. </em>” She smiles brightly, swaying in her chair a bit. Beside her, Elaine shoots her girlfriend a soft look. </p><p>“Really?” inquires Peggy, “Oh, how interesting.” She leans forward, all of her nerves dissipating as she listens to Charlotte. </p><p>“I suppose,” Charlotte murmurs. “It's mostly very depressing. I just hope some people are saved.” Her brow furrows. “What are <em> you </em> doing?”</p><p>Peggy shoots Charlotte a sly look. “It's a secret.” Then, glancing down at Charlotte’s hands, she gasps, because a ring sits on her fourth finger. The modern ring, with engraved leaves circling the band, the tiny diamond pieces in between the spaces, sits on her black skin gracefully. Secretly, Peggy’s a bit jealous. Her own ring (now not anymore), beautiful in its own right, was too clunky for her style.</p><p>“Oh, Elaine!” Peggy yelps, “Charlotte! <em> Oh my god </em>.”</p><p>Charlotte giggles, showing off her ring. Peggy leans in, inspecting the fine handiwork. “Where did you find something like this?”</p><p>Charlotte hums. “The Black Market, of course.”</p><p>“Where am I dropping you off again?” Elaine cuts in, but smiling delightedly as she does so. </p><p>“Oh, I- The main train station in Luton. The directions are here.” Peggy pulls out a map from her purse, which carefully labeled the route in blue pen. “It’s a forty minute drive.”</p><p>“Alright. Did you double check that you got everything?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Check again.”</p><p>Peggy goes through her mental checklist. She had packed all of her essentials in her trunk, but still, Peggy reaches in to take out a small purse. Counting the amount of money she has once again, she slips the S.O.E envelope inside the purse. </p><p>“Yep. I’ve got everything.”</p><p>The motorway isn’t crowded much, so Elaine is able to zip past the other cars. The rest of the drive is in silence, with Peggy biting the inside of her cheek at what would be waiting for her at the other side. What if she couldn’t do all of the tasks properly? What if she messed up? What if her ticket was wrong?</p><p>Charlotte, bless her, distracts her with stories of her younger sister, Layla, weaving them seamlessly, and making some laughs squeeze out of Peggy’s tight demeanor. </p><p>***</p><p>Thirty minutes later, Elaine pulls up at the train station. </p><p>Peggy turns to Elaine. “Thanks, for everything. And congratulations on your... engagement. I wish you <em> so much </em> happiness and blessings for the future.” Peggy chokes up on the last word, because what future do they have? It all depends if the Allies would succeed or fail. </p><p>“Take care, okay.” Elaine catches her arm. “You were always the bravest of us all.”</p><p>Peggy stares at Elaine, her eyes wide in surprise. She finds it in her to mumble out, “Thanks. Tell Evelyn and Helen that I’m sorry.” </p><p>“They’ll understand.”</p><p>
  <em> Would they? </em>
</p><p>Peggy climbs out of the car and grabs her suitcase from the backseat. She makes sure she has all of her things: her purse, her suitcase, and the S.O.E. envelope. </p><p>Elaine smiles at her once more, and turns the car around. Before Peggy knows it, Elaine and Charlotte are gone. </p><p>She gets herself onto the train station and buys a ticket to Arisaig, Scotland. </p><p>The train ride would be eleven hours long, with five stops. She chooses a compartment next to a family of five. Peggy counts three children, who are loud and boisterous. They keep running away from their parents into Peggy’s compartment. It’s a nice distraction from the dread of leaving. </p><p><em> She cannot fail. </em>  </p><p>Before long, they are pulling away from the station, and Peggy can breathe a sigh of relief. She pulls out her smuggled science journals from school and settles in for a long train ride. </p><p>During the third hour, Peggy checks her grandmother’s watch. It’s two minutes till eight. She watches the trees pass by her window in a blur and thinks of home. Her mother would be waking up at this time. Her sister and mother would have breakfast, without suspecting a thing. Only they would realize what had happened when her mother would come into her room and find an envelope on the bed instead of Peggy.  </p><p>The train conductor comes in and informs them that they are nearing Liverpool. Secretly, Peggy is relieved. The farther away from home, the better. It’s like she’s stuck between a limbo from home and… something, far beyond what she can articulate. </p><p>The rest of the train ride is passed in reading, sleeping, eating, and playing with the tiny kids from the next compartment. </p><p>It’s the last time she’ll be at peace with herself in a long time. </p><p>***</p><p>“By the end of this week, you will no longer be citizens. If you pass the selection process, you will become something more. Forget who you ever were. There is a war to be fought, and a job to be done. S.O.E. expects you to carry out your duty, no failures.”</p><p>After a long train ride, Peggy’s glad to be on stable ground. She quickly exits the train, after checking and double checking that she had everything. She had spotted the army truck parked outside of the train station, and in a blink, she was seated in it with the rest of the S.O.E. recruits, making their way across the Scottish highlands, the lush green of the mountains a stark contrast to home.</p><p>There is nothing but greenery everywhere she looks, no sign of civilization except for their truck making its way down the path. For the first time, Peggy feels her physical isolation is somehow a valuable thing. Nothing will drag her down now, except for herself. </p><p>They were driven to an old country house, miles away from any signs of other people. They were truly alone, everyone on the truck too nervous to speak. Three officers stood outside, all wearing their uniforms, standing at attention. Reading their tags, Peggy finds out that Colonel Harris, Commander Roberts, and Agent Kelly would be training them. </p><p>Agent Kelly took all of the recruits inside and made them stand in the house’s parlor room. There are eleven recruits; four women and seven men. As Peggy looked around the room, she noticed how everyone looked like her: ordinary. They didn’t look like anything special; Peggy couldn’t have picked them out of a crowd. That, she supposed, was the point.  </p><p>Agent Kelly takes the register and then Colonel Harris steps forward and gives his speech. Peggy only half hears it. He talks about the S.O.E. program and how the selection process will happen by the end of the week. Peggy just marvels over how only thirteen hours ago, she was at home, in Hampstead, and now she was in Scotland, going through a regime that would make her a spy, and then will be tasked to go overseas and do God-knows-what in God-knows-where. </p><p>The sun is slowly setting outside, and Peggy feels a pang of homesickness. She misses her mum, she misses the comfort and the bubble of home; the hope of a white-picket fence future. But she quickly washes away her regret, because the only way to protect her family was to <em> focus </em>. </p><p>“Before we pack you off to bed, we will be doing short interviews.”</p><p>Oh, hell. Peggy’s heart starts beating really loudly. An interview? She’s not prepared for that. And since her last name starts with a ‘C’ she’s got to get her act together, and fast. </p><p>They wait in the parlor, able to lounge on the couches and sofas. Peggy sits gingerly on one of the armchairs.  She only has to wait for five minutes until her name is called. Peggy makes her way to the office on the other side of the house, following Agent Kelly there. </p><p>Finding her grandfather’s ring in her pocket, Peggy squeezes it, and then knocks with a deep breath. </p><p>“Come on in.”</p><p>Colonel Harris sits on a table, along with another woman who stands near the window. She has dark hair and even darker eyes. Her jaw is clenched, obviously studying the people who came in closely. </p><p>Peggy can see her file open in front of the Colonel, the same one that she had to fill out and send to the S.O.E.</p><p>She sits down in front of the desk and tries to look confident. Her back straight, her hands collapsed in her lap, and her chin up.  </p><p>He asks Peggy the general questions, her education, job experience, her family history.</p><p>“You say you know three foreign languages?”</p><p>“Yes,” Peggy responds, “I learned French from my grandparents. I’ve gone to Paris two times, in fact, to visit some extended family. I know how to read and write German and Russian, but that was only because of my work in Bletchley Park.”</p><p>The questions go on. And then:</p><p>“What is your greatest <em> fear </em>, Miss Carter?”</p><p>Peggy stares. Nobody had asked her that before.</p><p>“I have no assurance that I can actually do this,” Peggy says, after a long silence where she carefully chooses her words, hands shaking in her lap.  “But I can’t look back now. And I can’t fail. All I can do is look forward and help protect my country.”</p><p>The Colonel tilts his head.  “Then what do you think your greatest strength is?”</p><p>Peggy makes sure she speaks clearly. “I also have nothing to lose. That… would make me the dangerous one.”</p><p>The Colonel huffs. “It also makes you the reckless one.”</p><p>“Colonel, I assure you, I don’t intend on doing anything without weighing its consequences.”</p><p>That was a lesson hard learnt in her childhood as a young girl, and it wouldn’t do well to forget it now. She was a messy child when she was younger, always having one narrative about life and other people, rather than understanding the true meaning her actions had. Every single mischief she got into - running away, falling off of the roof of her home, getting stuck in a gutter- these were all actions of a noble consequence. But back then, she got caught. </p><p>And that simply won’t do anymore.</p><p>“Last question, Miss Carter.” Peggy leans forward in her chair. “Would you be able to kill?”</p><p>There is something nasty swirling in the bottom of her stomach. Part of her wants to run away, back home. </p><p>She isn’t a killer. She isn’t one. </p><p>But, she has to become one. </p><p>
  <em> She cannot fail. </em>
</p><p>“If it came to it sir, I think I would be able to.” Peggy says, thankful her voice comes out steady. </p><p>She just hopes it is true. </p><p>And with that, the interview is over. She’s given a new name: Madeline Delsarte, along with papers and background information she’d have to adopt. Peggy tastes the name in her mouth as she gets carted off. It’s very fancy and unique, a name that is supposed to belong to a prettier and classier girl. She’d never think of being given a newer name when she was already quite satisfied with her current one, especially a name she wasn't allowed to choose.</p><p>But, Peggy thinks, she’ll take it. </p><p>***</p><p>She is in a room with the three other girls for the night; a Polish girl named Carla Bain, a girl named Elisa Duval, and an older woman named Anna Colbert - all fake names. </p><p>The crickets outside sing their song as the women all get ready for bed; slipping on nightgowns, storing their suitcases under their respective camp beds. </p><p>When the clock strikes 9, Agent Kelly comes into their room carrying a bag. All of the women stand up, surprised but ready for attention. Peggy’s hair is half in pins as she puts her hands behind her back, and she feels ridiculously immature. </p><p>Agent Kelly nods, giving them silent permission to relax. “I hope you are settling in properly for the night. We have a day ahead of us that warrants your full attention.”</p><p>Everyone nods, but they all know Agent Kelly didn’t come up to wish them well for the night. There is a moment of silence where anticipation swings in the cool air. Agent Kelly sighs and hands each woman a metal tin from her bag. </p><p>Peggy opens her tin and finds cotton cylinders wrapped in plastic. She bites her lip.</p><p>“Government-approved tampons,” Agent Kelly says firmly. “It’ll fare better when we put your body through more active regimes. And you’ll take these abroad if you succeed training.”</p><p>“I don’t need this, ma’am,” Anna says, standing up, a hint of laughter on her lips. “I’m old. Menopause, you know.” Anna waves her arm in the air nonchalantly, easing the awkwardness of the situation. </p><p>Agent Kelly takes her tin, nods, and leaves their room, shutting the door on the way out. The quarters are enveloped in silence once more, as the girls clutch their tins quite awkwardly. Poor Elisa is blushing madly, embarrassed that this topic came up.  </p><p>Elisa speaks up quietly, her braids swinging as she does so. She’s the same age as Peggy, give or take. “Don’t… don’t these take away your virginity?”</p><p>Peggy blushes and stashes the tin underneath her bed. </p><p>“Better that, than a flacid <em> you-know-what </em>, dear,” Anna says, half teasing and half reassuring. </p><p>Peggy brings her hands to her mouth to smother a surprised laugh, a bit scandalized. Anna winks at Elisa, and then promptly lays down on her bed, pulling the covers over her face. Peggy shares a look with Carla, who snorts. </p><p>The light goes out, and Peggy falls asleep, a smile on her face.</p><p>***</p><p>The next day, Peggy wakes up automatically early in the morning, determination running through her veins. </p><p>She learns quickly that mornings are rushed, with all the women scrambling to shower and get dressed in their new brown wool uniforms. They are a bit baggy, and completely unflattering. Peggy pulls on her pants with a bit of confusion. She thought they should’ve been given proper skirts. But as she moves around the room, she sees how the pants keep her warm all the way down her legs and is practical for movement. </p><p>Peggy sits on her bed, opening the small red jewelry box she had brought, the bottom filled with pictures of her family, the top with her limited makeup. She rubs Pond’s cream over her cheeks, trying to pip herself up. </p><p>The first day has three tests. The observational skills test is right in the morning after breakfast. Rations have increased, and Peggy forces herself to finish eating every bite of her food, no matter how dry her powdered eggs are. The recruits all shuffle into a standard college lecture classroom, Peggy notices, with the absence of a blackboard. </p><p>Peggy, walking behind the rest of the group, opts to sit next to Anna, who sweetly smiles at her. Agent Kelly comes in, wheeling in a blackboard covered in a white cloth. </p><p>“Attention!”</p><p>They all sit up straight. </p><p>“All of you will have twenty minutes to memorize this,” she uncovers the cloth on the blackboard to reveal a floor plan of some sort, “and then will be tested on it afterwards. Keep your eyes open.”</p><p>The classroom is silent, and Agent Kelly pushes her thick glasses up her nose with one hand and settles in her chair, watching them with steely eyes, examining every move as if she was the one being tested. </p><p>Peggy keeps her eyes trained on the blackboard, noticing the layout, the entrances and the windows. Then she goes onto the rooms, noting the names labeled. If she were a spy, Peggy thinks curiously, how would she go about maneuvering it? In her mind, she sketches out a simple map, the route she would take-</p><p>
  <em> CRASH! </em>
</p><p>The door bursts down. </p><p>Peggy starts to glare at the interrupting noise, but then watches two large men run across the room, the last one clutching a gun, firing at the other in front. </p><p>
  <em> BANG! BANG! </em>
</p><p>Peggy sits shocked, horribly still, her stomach swooping, as some fellow recruits slide under their desks, chairs sliding as they hide for cover. </p><p>Well, if the tea didn’t wake her up this morning, <em> that </em> certainly did. </p><p>Twenty minutes later, and everyone wasn’t quizzed on the map layout, but on the two men running, the specific details in that moment.  </p><p>
  <em> How many shots were fired? How many men were there? Who was clutching the gun? Which one was wearing the jacket? </em>
</p><p>Peggy’s hands are trembling as she writes the exams, but the adrenaline pouring through feels good. She’s never had such a wakeup call to pay attention. She knows the S.O.E. has an obligation to teach them what is going to be on the ground for them. </p><p><em> Details, </em> she thinks to herself when they go to lunch, <em> are important. They’ll save you in the field.  </em></p><p>After lunch the recruits sit and are tested on mechanical aptitude, where everyone is tasked with making miniature models of a bench, a bridge, and an airplane using meccano sets. Michael had tons of these lying around the house, so for Peggy, it wasn’t quite as hard, compared to other, much older members, who struggled with the pieces. </p><p>Making things with the meccano sets were tricker than she remembers despite that, her large fingers fumbling to screw pieces together, the clock ticking loudly in her ears, reminding her that she was on a time crunch. </p><p>When time is called, Peggy places the unfinished airplane on her desk with a resounding sigh. Only two agents, Thomas Graham and Carla Bain (the girl that slept across from her, Peggy notes), were the only ones in the class to complete every model. </p><p><em> I’ll do better next time </em> , Peggy promises herself. <em> I’ll have to do better.  </em></p><p>Then, in the afternoon, there was a morse test aptitude, which was quite interesting. The entire group was split into two, where they listened to a song, and tried to find a hidden message in morse code. Peggy, who had learned a bit of morse with Michael, picked up the message, which was just a sentence regarding the weather, Thomas working alongside her. </p><p>He was a bit shy, probably, a year younger than Peggy, if she had to guess. He was made up of awkward tall limbs, but enthusiastic working with her. Thomas, Peggy picks up on, wasn’t trying to be a hero or pretending he was smarter than he actually was. He was just being a good team member. </p><p><em> You’ll only succeed as a group, </em> she learned. <em> It’s too narcissistic to think you’ll be able to do this alone and succeed.  </em></p><p>Peggy falls into bed that night, her mind whirring with all the things she learned that day. Exhaustion takes over, and she closes her eyes, sleeping a dreamless night. </p><p>The next day is an obstacle course test. </p><p>That morning, Peggy tries to make conversation with Anna and Elisa, remembering what she had learned yesterday. </p><p>She needed friends. </p><p>Anna and Elisa try to make conversation with her, obviously based on the papers given to them at the beginning of the week, and the story they made up about their newly given identities, but the conversation falls short. No one had actually had time to create an airtight backstory, least of Peggy.   </p><p>Peggy is cut short by Commander Roberts signaling the end of breakfast. Peggy shoves a dry piece of bread in her mouth and walks with Anna down to the forest. They make their way to a huge clearing where an obvious obstacle course is set up. </p><p>
  <em> She cannot fail.  </em>
</p><p>Peggy gets in line, watching the first recruits try to go through. Each obstacle had a certain amount of points, and she had to obtain fifty out of ninety to pass. If she didn’t pass, she would be sent straight home.</p><p>When it’s her turn, Peggy takes a huge breath.  </p><p>“Miss Delsarte,” Commander Roberts murmurs to her with the same sympathetic look that he had been given to the rest of the female recruits. “If this seems too... <em> strenuous </em> for you, you don’t have to go through it all. It’s alright to tap out.”</p><p>Peggy looks him straight in the eyes as she puts one step forward, her eyes flashing with hot anger. She hates him so much, hates that he had the nerve to count her out. Roberts doesn’t know why she’s here, why she <em> needs </em> to do this. Why she needs to find a way to win this grotesque war. An obstacle test wouldn’t shock her <em> delicate feminin </em>e self. </p><p>She <em> has </em> to learn. </p><p>She crosses the broken tree laid across a ditch, in a makeshift dangerous bridge, putting one foot in front of the other. Beside her, Commander Roberts has his watch tick-toking in his hand,  and the anxiety of taking <em> too much time </em> causes Peggy’s heart to speed up even more. </p><p>Then there is a barbed wire crawl, which is easy. Peggy gets on her stomach and slitters under. Her hair gets caught once or twice, but she yanks it loose and moves forward, blinking the pain away. Jumping and crawling through the course, Peggy makes sure she carefully watches her footing. She learned quickly that the other recruits would fall only if they didn’t pay attention. </p><p>At the end of the obstacle course is a three meter wall. The only person out of all of them to get over it was a tall man named James McConnell. Everyone could stand on the sloped ledge and put their hands on the top, but didn’t have the upper body strength to do so. James McConell was apparently a boxer, with defined muscles (<em> and also a wanker, where Peggy was concerned </em>) so he was able to get over it with no problem. Peggy gets on the sloped ledge, puts her hands on the top of the wall, then kicks off of the ledge. </p><p>Peggy pushes herself to the top, adrenaline pouring through her body, a bit of panic and grit helping her. <em> She can do this. </em></p><p>Then, with a great deal of strength, her arms burning, she was able to get her upper body and leg over the wall. </p><p>She collapses on the ground at the end, heaving swigs of air. Commander Roberts congratulates her and then helps her up. Peggy wobbles over to Thomas and sits down next to him.</p><p>Peggy’s legs are still shaking when they are all led to another clearing the forest. She groans inwardly, but tamps it down afraid of letting people think she was weak; that she was an easy target to disregard. </p><p>There are two tall trees, separated 6 meters away from each other. Two ropes join them, each four feet in difference. </p><p>“The next test,” Commander Roberts yells, “is the rope test. You will have to climb vertically on those ladders nailed to the tree. Then, when you reach the ropes, you will have to hold on to the top-most rope, while putting your feet firmly planted on the bottom most rope. Hold onto the ropes tightly, because that’s a seven meter drop, and you have no safety net or harness.”</p><p>Peggy’s heart begins thumping loudly. The blood is rushing through her ears. She watches all the other recruits horizontally cross the trees. Anna stands next to her, a determined look on her wrinkled face. Peggy reckons she’s as old as her mother, which does nothing to quell her nerves. </p><p>With unrivaled strength, Anna climbs up and clutches the rope to move across. Peggy can’t dare to look at her though, her own stomach swooping when Anna loses her balance for a split second. The elder woman straightens herself and shoots a grin at the officers, relieving them of their dread of killing an elderly woman in training. </p><p>
  <em> She doesn’t want to die. </em>
</p><p>Then it’s her turn. She climbs the tall ladders and then grabs on the top rope with her arms. Her feet firmly planted on the bottom rope, Peggy starts to cross. </p><p>Damn it, she was never afraid of heights, and she wasn’t going to start now. But the ropes are loose. It’s easy to lose balance. And fall. </p><p>
  <em> She cannot fail. </em>
</p><p>So, Peggy starts pretending. <em> Michael is with her, next to her. All this is a stupid dare and Michael is right beside her.  </em></p><p>She somehow makes it across, even as she loses her balance many times, her sweaty hands clutching the top rope so hard, she was getting blisters. Her feet were firmly planted on the second rope, but the dangers of falling were high. Even as she distracts herself, there is a hum thrumming in her chest, buzzing in her whole body, making sure she didn’t freeze up.  </p><p>Anna hugs her tight when she finally gets on solid ground, shaking from head to toe. “Good job,” she murmurs, a bit consoling. </p><p><em> You’ve got to have the guts, </em> Peggy thinks, <em> to do whatever it takes. No matter what. </em> </p><p>***</p><p>The next day, Peggy wakes up with aches all over her body, feeling so uncomfortable. She gets ready and hobbles downstairs. </p><p>Apparently, by order of Commander Roberts, the obstacle course and the deathly rope climb wasn’t enough to get them ready. They had to do all sorts of physical exercises all day, according to the bulletin board in the dining hall. </p><p>The recruits are carted outside at six in the morning to run laps around the grounds of the country house. The air is icy cold, and Peggy feels like huddling like a penguin and not moving at all. </p><p>They wait for the whistle to blow, and Peggy’s mind starts an annoying chant. <em> I don’t want to do this, I really don’t want to do this! </em></p><p>Agent Kelly blows her whistle, and everyone starts running. Just as she expected, the boys are at the front, laughing and trying to one-up each other. </p><p>Peggy’s at a jog behind them, already tired. She expected all the other women to also fall behind, but Carla takes off at a dash, her long legs propelling her forward, Anna not far behind. </p><p>Stunned, all Peggy can do is stare in astonishment. She didn’t expect them to be fast. She awkwardly jogs, already far behind the group. Elisa huffs and puffs next to her. Silently, the two girls run together, trying to encourage the other through vague positive messages, huffing and puffing their way. </p><p>Peggy almost gives up and starts walking the lap at times, but then either Carla or Anna lap her, and she keeps on running, trying to distract herself with the beautiful landscape of the run; a lake with the bluest water and and an equally gorgeous valley, with green, purple, and yellow colors swirled together.</p><p>When they are finished with their five laps, Peggy’s sweaty and tired. Breathing loudly, she walks into the house, her face completely red, and overhears Colonel Harris and another woman in the parlor.</p><p>“This is absolutely <em> ridiculous, </em> Vera,” the Colonel says in his gruff voice. Peggy frowns. </p><p>“Physical training for the women?” The Colonel continues, sharply, “This training is supposed to be rigorous. By the end of the session, we’ll have no women left!”</p><p>“They have to be on the field, ready for <em> anything </em> ,” the other voice says, which Peggy supposes is Vera Atkins, the same woman who was in her interview. “They have to learn. And see, <em> you’re </em> already underestimating them.” There is a short pause, one that Peggy suspects where Vera is trying to hold her tongue and failing. “They’ll make <em> perfect </em> spies.”</p><p>Peggy’s breathing levels out, and she shuffles past them to the dining room, alerting them of her presence. Her face is still red, but her jaw is set, determined to succeed. </p><p>Determined to do whatever necessary to <em> succeed </em>. </p><p>Breakfast is solemn, as a boy named Billy turns on the radio. It’s nothing new. Destruction on a city, another town bombed, more people dead; the environment her mother tried to shield her from at home. It’s a twisted motivation, but brings the recruits back to the only reason that matters. </p><p>The only reason they are here. </p><p>After breakfast, Agent Kelly splits the group into two: Carla, Peggy, James, Billy, and a buff man named Richard. On the country house’s grounds, they are marched toward a small lake; the same one they saw on their run. The second group, Peggy learns, is inside the country house so they cannot see what they are doing. </p><p>On the lake’s edge are four barrels, four wooden logs, a long rope, and a paddling stick. </p><p>“For today’s task, you must build a raft and get to the middle of the lake, where you must pick up the radio floating on that buoy.” says Agent Kelly, pointing to the middle of the lake. They all look at the radio. “Mr. James McConnell, you will be the leader of the group. Begin.” Agent Kelly starts her watch and then steps aside to watch. </p><p>McConnell steps forward. “Alright boys!” He claps his hands. “Let’s get these barrel rolls up, and join the logs together with the rope.” He runs a hand through his hair. </p><p>Carla looks at Peggy. For some reason, she looks very scary. “He didn’t tell <em> us </em> what to do, did he?” she asks in a condescending tone. </p><p>“Let’s go help anyway,” Peggy says. “Boys will be boys.”</p><p>“Who told you that piece of crap advice?” asks Carla looking scruitinly at Peggy.</p><p>Peggy blinks at Carla stupidly. “I-”</p><p>“No,” Carla remarks grimly. “We won’t be helpful blubbering around like those boys. Agent Kelly didn’t specify how to build a raft. We could use some help from the forest around the lake. I bet there is something good lying around.”</p><p>“But,” Peggy stutters, “I think she meant-”</p><p>“Madeline, right? That’s your name? Don’t assume anything. Let’s go.” Carla starts walking. “Oi McConnell! We’re going to the forest to look for tools that could help!”</p><p>McConnell barely looks up. “Sure, go ahead.”</p><p>Carla gives Peggy a look that clearly shows how exasperated she is. They go into the forest, Agent Kelly barely watching them disappear. </p><p>A minute into scourging for tools (Carla had already found a nice big stick), Peggy spots  something on the edge of the lake. </p><p>“Carla!” Peggy yells, “I found something.”</p><p>They both stagger toward it. It’s a raft; hand made, and way better than the thing the boys were building. </p><p>Carla laughs. They drag it back to their team, where James McConnell is looking red in the face. </p><p> When he sees them, James narrows his eyes and grumpily says, “How did you find <em> that </em>? Nevermind, hand it over. Clock is ticking.” </p><p>The raft is taken from their hands. Billy and James climb onto it and start rafting towards the radio. Peggy thinks it's a miracle they didn’t fall off, with the weight of the two men making the raft bobble dangerously on the water, close to tipping many times. </p><p>James and Billy come back, their pants soaking wet, James tightly clutching the radio, Billy rowing. </p><p>James jumps off, puts the radio at Agent Kelly’s feet, and straightens up to put his hands on his hips. </p><p>“So,” he says, “How did we do?”</p><p>Agent Kelly looks at all of them: Billy who was still trying to get out of the raft and failing, Richard who was helping him out, and then at Carla and Peggy, who were standing side by side. </p><p>She looks back at James, a piercing cold look in her eyes that makes him lean back. “Good job, Miss Delsarte and Miss Bain. It’s good to scout your location and use everything to your advantage. There will always be materials provided by the S.O.E. if we can. Dismissed.”</p><p>Peggy learns at dinner that the other team fared better than hers. Although they didn’t find the raft, they worked as a <em> team </em> and eventually were able to finish. </p><p>One the fourth day, the last day of the selection, they are allowed to use the whole evening to get to know each other. Peggy gravitates towards Thomas, who looks like he hails from home, the way he holds himself yells <em> city boy </em>. They sit on the armchairs playing chess and making small talk.</p><p>It's a calm evening, and Peggy gets the feeling it's like the type of day before the big and exciting event, when everything is still, but there is an air suspense fluttering around your body. The sun casts a golden glow in the foyer, tinting reality with a false layer of happiness. </p><p>Peggy feigns surprise when it looks like Thomas has the upper hand with her pieces. She knows they are supposed to be playing casually, but she only knows how to play the long game. </p><p>“Do you think you’ll make it through training?” Thomas asks, in an attempt to distract her. </p><p>Peggy hums, pretending to think through her next move. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I hope so.”</p><p>They both fall silent, and Peggy moves her next piece. Thomas still hasn’t cottoned on to her play, and moves his knight, in an obvious attempt for her queen.</p><p>Peggy hides a smile. </p><p>“Do your feet hurt?” Thomas inquires, awkwardly motioning toward her shoes. </p><p>At that, Peggy arches her eyebrow. “Yes,” she deadpans, “I suppose after running the daily two miles in the morning with <em> military boots </em> will cause your feet to sore a bit. Especially if you aren’t used to running everyday.”</p><p>“Not like that though,” Thomas insists. “I… I’ve run a few marathons in my life. And I also used to have that problem. But a few senior runners said that I used to run with the heels of my feet hitting the ground. You have to run with the soles of your feet carrying more of your weight. That way, you’ll run faster and it wouldn't hurt as much.”</p><p>He sits awkwardly, a bit of pink on his cheeks. She considers his advice and makes a mental note to try it later. Moving her bishop on the board, she declares, “Checkmate.”</p><p>As Thomas frowns and gapes at the board, she hums. “You, mister, need friends,” she advises while Thomas goes through a mini crisis, “I’ve noticed you sit alone. And the whole point of training is to teach us how important it is to work as a team to win. Your muscles will only take you so far.”</p><p>With those words of wisdom exchanged, Peggy wins the game.</p><p>The afternoon passes in the same excitement and happiness. </p><p>But there seems to be something dark swirling in Peggy’s stomach.<em> She cannot fail. </em></p><p>After lunch, they are brought into the classroom where they had their first task. Colonel Harris stands in the room, flanked by Agent Kelly and Commander Roberts. </p><p>Peggy takes a seat next to Carla, who is sporting dark red lipstick. Peggy really likes it. </p><p>“The last task is the Buddy Rating System. In front of you is a piece of paper and a pencil. When I say go, write the name of one person in this group who you would choose as a leader in a mission, and who you would leave behind if it came to it. Go.”</p><p>Peggy picks up her pencil slowly. She goes through the week’s events in her head.</p><p>Carla, she writes, to lead.</p><p>James, to leave behind. </p><p>And that’s that.</p><p>By the end of the day, poor Elisa and two other boys are sent home.</p><p>She stays. </p><p>
  <em> She cannot fail. </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>Carla, Anna, and Peggy stare at Elisa’s old bunk. </p><p>“I thought it would be me!” whispers Anna with a frown, a look of relief in her gray eyes. “I <em> failed </em> the obstacle course and I couldn’t even build the model plane-”</p><p>“Calm yourself, Anna,” Carla says, a bit harshly. She gives one last look at Elisa’s old bunk, a hint of pity, and maybe recollection flickering across her features, then trots off to the washroom. Anna and Peggy stare after her. </p><p>“She’s a bit nasty, isn’t she?” Anna mutters to Peggy, who looks rather scandalized at Carla’s sharp tone.</p><p>Peggy forces a smile onto her face. “Never mind that now. Let’s get to bed, shall we? We’ve got a long day ahead of us. I heard that the <em> weapon's training </em> is tomorrow.”</p><p>Anna shoots her a very motherish look. “Yes, and then chartered off behind enemy lines. <em> Very good. </em>”</p><p>Peggy snorts. “Only if we survive.”</p><p>Carla had appeared from the washroom, her hair in pins. “You were great during the past few days. I heard Kelly talking about how impressed she was of you.”</p><p>Peggy laughs. “Me?” she asks. </p><p>“Of course!” Anna says. “You were the only one out of us able to scale the three meters tall wall. You were able to find the raft-” </p><p>“-with Carla’s help-” interjects Peggy,</p><p>“- and on the first day, you were able to find the morse code in the song! They would be stupid not to keep you,” states Anna plainly. </p><p>“Let’s see,” smiles Peggy. “You were also great, Anna. I heard that you were able to raft without tipping it over.”</p><p>“Oh,” blushes Anna, “My husband's a fisherman. He taught me.” She smiles, a melancholy look on her face.</p><p>“You did well.” Peggy glances at Carla, confused at her slight kindness who is slowly getting into bed. “Well, we have a huge day in front of us. <em> Good night </em>.”</p><p>The next day is the one Peggy’s most cautious about. Weapon’s training. They go to the main lawn straight after breakfast. Peggy stays close to Carla, knowing well that her fellow recruit had her shit together. </p><p>A huge white tent has been set up, where underneath are four tables, all with <em> actual </em> guns on them. Peggy chooses a seat in the front. She just knows that there is a huge chance she’ll mess this up. Yet, she cannot fail.</p><p>They get orders to hold the gun. It’s heavier than Peggy expected, and she grips it properly, listening carefully to Agent Kelly and Commander Roberts. </p><p>
  <em> Could you kill? </em>
</p><p>The gun is a powerful weapon. It’s power she’d never had before, one that allows her to hold fate in her hands; one that screams: <em> we’re trusting you to do whatever is needed </em>.  She holds it close, following the instructions on how to remove the magazine properly. What the safety click does. How to unload and load safely and quickly.</p><p>After they had finished learning the basics, Agent Kelly takes them farther out on the backyard, past the lake. Holding their guns, the recruits walk in quietly behind Commander Roberts. They reach five white board pieces, cut out to look like men. </p><p><em> Oh no, will we start shooting now </em>? Peggy wonders, panicking in the middle of the line, too much of a coward to be first, and way too scared to go last. </p><p>James is the first. Precise, accurate shots are fired. </p><p>Peggy cannot help but flinch.</p><p>When it is her turn, she grips her heavy gun with two hands. She’s breathing so loudly, it clouds her senses. </p><p>Swallowing, she stands in the proper position and pulls up her gun, trying to aim it correctly. Peggy feels her vision tunnel, her brain unconsciously blocking out all distractions to focus on this one thing. </p><p>She knows it's ridiculous to fear the power of the gun, but part of her dreads the inhumanity of it all. She told Commander Roberts that she could kill, because in the end, the basic idea is: kill or be killed. </p><p>And standing there, with her armpits sweating, she wonders if she’s doing the right thing. Her mind flicks back to her family, back when most of them were alive and together, and wonders what they would think about this. </p><p>But no, Peggy thinks, as she shakes her head, she doesn’t belong to them. For the first time, she’s alone, making her own decisions for herself. </p><p>But Peggy fears turning into something horrible - turning into a murderer. </p><p>Tightening her grip again and taking another deep breath to calm her nerves, Peggy knows she’ll do whatever’s necessary to triumph, because she doesn’t see any other option. </p><p>She remembers the fragmented parts of her country, the darkness and pain of it all, and feeling like an exchangeable cog in a big machine.</p><p>
  <em> Could you kill? </em>
</p><p>She has to. There isn’t any other choice. And if means destroying everything she thought she believed was right, just so good people could live, it will be worth it.</p><p>Releasing the safety switch, she puts her finger on the trigger, breathes, and pulls.</p><p>BANG!</p><p>She can’t help but flinch. Again.</p><p>But it puts a small smile to her face. Because she’s never felt like that ever in her life. Adrenaline is flowing through her veins, and she feels something new. Powerful.</p><p>“Good job, Miss Delsarte.”</p><p>Peggy moves to the back of the line, eager to try again, eager to learn. </p><p>She wonders what her mother would think of her, what the officer that choked her at Bletchley would realize she was. She wonders what Evelyn would think if she knew what Peggy was doing. </p><p>All she knows is, the girl that she came here as, was gone.</p><p>***</p><p>The rest of the program, Peggy tries to think positively, which goes without a hitch. After weapon’s training, they move on to learning how to kill men quickly and quietly, with no weapons. Anna, somehow, seems to be a natural at this.</p><p>“You get muscles after taking care of children after a while,” Anna laughs when she manages to take down Richard. </p><p>Peggy’s quite horrible at it, even though she follows the directions given to them perfectly. The entire day is spent outside in the icy rain, learning the art of silent killing. </p><p>The recruits learn how to kill people, but how do you save people, Peggy wonders? When she asks Anna this, she responds quite seriously, “Because that is not <em> our </em> job.”</p><p>When the day finishes, she trudges back to the country house for dinner, entirely spent and mad at herself for not doing better. </p><p>Thomas comes to sit with her at dinner though, rather than sitting alone with his book. Peggy lets him borrow one of her old science journals. </p><p>“Just don’t mind the scribbles on the sides of the pages,” she warns, “All my teachers have gotten on my case to annotate my reading, and now I can’t read without it.”</p><p>Thomas laughs, letting her borrow his Jane Austen. She teases him about his topic of books, but he blushes and says, “It’s good writing!”</p><p>Carla catches Peggy after dinner, Anna by the elder girl’s side. “Come on,” she whispers, “Outside.”</p><p>Peggy’s mouth makes a circle. “Won’t we get in trouble?” she says furiously. </p><p>“This isn’t school, goody two-shoes,” Carla says, a bit harshly. </p><p>Anna grabs Peggy’s hand. “Two days for combat training,” she explains, “is not enough to learn. We’ll learn together, and be better tomorrow.”</p><p>The three women walk outside, immediately shivering at the cold. They gather near the front door, making sure the grass they were practicing on didn’t have any potholes. </p><p>In ten minutes, both Carla and Anna are able to put Peggy down harshly. But she always gets up, even after a particularly bad fall, and she can see a bit of respect in their eyes. </p><p>“Alright,” Carla exclaims, after Peggy had been beaten by Anna yet again, after a proper hour of colliding with the dirt in every possible way. Every part of her body hurt, from her jaw, down to her legs. Frustration had begun to build up inside Peggy, and she wanted to go to sleep and try again tomorrow. “This isn’t working! Come on, Madeline,” Carla taunts, “Let’s see what you are made up of. Come at me!”</p><p>Peggy races forward, and tries to trip her up, kicking her feet at Carla’s. The elder woman blocks her by kicking Peggy’s knees and making her lose her balance. “You fight like a pansy,” Carla hisses, trying to rile her up. “Are you <em> scared, </em> Delsarte?”</p><p>Anger courses through Peggy’s body, and she tries to get a punch in. Because how <em> dare </em> she? She doesn’t know what Peggy’s been through, she doesn’t know what’s left in her, begging to be released. </p><p>“<em> Are you angry </em> ?” Carla yells, after Peggy fails to land her punch and instead stumbling a few feet away. “Good. <em> Be angry! </em> Use that! Come on! <em> Beat me! </em>”</p><p>Peggy roars and charges, determined to hit her hard, a plan in mind. She swings her fist, but Carla blocks with her forearm. Peggy though, kicks her assailant's right knee at the same time as hard as she could, forcing Carla to her knees. But Bain yanks on Peggy’s legs, and does a quick maneuver so that Peggy goes down on her back, the wind knocked out of her lungs.</p><p>Carla flashes her teeth wickedly, her knee on Peggy’s chest. After a few seconds though, Carla stands up and extends a hand. Peggy grabs it and hauls herself to her feet, catching her breath.</p><p>For a while, no one says anything. There is nothing in the air except for the sounds of their heavy breathing and of the crickets.</p><p>Peggy toys with the idea of giving up. Sweat coats her back, and the rough wool uniforms they were wearing stank horribly. Her fingers were freezing cold, and her face was roughed up. She wasn’t made for this. She knew that. All she knew was how to cause mischief. Hand-to-hand combat though? Women’s bodies were not meant for that. </p><p>Peggy tucks her messed up hair behind her ears and wipes her face of dirt. Carla may have noticed the hesitation in Peggy’s eyes because she declares, “You fight like a mad woman. Which is good. All you have to do now is;<em> control your anger </em> and take them down.” </p><p>Stepping closer to Peggy, Carla lowers her voice, mindful of the night’s quiet. “No one will teach us the fine arts of <em> graceful fighting </em> or whatever, so we have to teach other how to fight quick and dirty. Ready to go again?” She arches her eyebrow, daring Peggy.</p><p>Peggy clenches her jaw and nods, ignoring her sore body. Anna takes the place of Carla, and they go again. Peggy fails, again and again. She spits the dirt and blood out of her mouth and stands up. Because deep down, she knew that even if she truly wasn’t meant for the field, that this was her choice. And she was going to honor that before she asked anyone else to honor it as well. </p><p>According to the watch Nanna had given her, they snuck into bed at one in the morning. Peggy rolled her shoulders as she quietly pinned up her hair. </p><p>“Women want to be liked,” Anna had told her plainly, as they brushed their teeth, “so they are gentle and kind. And in the end, we are left behind. When we go through training again tomorrow, remember: hit hard and hit accurately. Don’t hold yourself back.”</p><p>And Peggy does it again the next day. She still can’t beat Carla or Anna, but she lands a few good punches on them, catching them off guard. She gets faster, able to see punches coming before she’s knocked to her feet. </p><p>But she still gets up. Peggy lets her anger fuel her muscles, but not her brain. In her mind, she has a rational plan: which parts to target when and how. But when she charges, she’s brutal, laying her punches harshly. She’s not kind. She’s not gentle. She’s angry, fuming till the tips of her hair, angry that war has torn her family apart, angry that people aided and supported bigotry and division, angry that all this bullshit led to so much bloodshed. </p><p>The afternoon comes and goes, and it's evening when Commander Roberts calls them together. Vera Atkins and Colonel Harris stand together, waiting. Watching. </p><p>They are ordered to stand in a circle in the grass. </p><p>“McConnell,” he barks, “step forward. And-” he pauses, looking back at Miss Atkins, an unspoken question being asked between the two. </p><p>Atkins’ features don’t change, she just nods back. </p><p>“-And Miss Delsarte. Stand forward.” </p><p>Peggy’s face heats up as all the attention is pulled on her. She steps forward, her fists clenched tightly behind her back. </p><p>Roberts sighs. “Let’s see how all of you are progressing in your practice. McConnell, you’re on defense, Delsarte, you’re on offense. And son,” he lowers his voice, stepping close to James. “Go a bit easier on her. You’re big and a man.”</p><p>James nods, fixing Peggy with a sympathetic look. He relaxes his body, trying to look non- threatening. A very gentlemanly action, but it’s his mistake. There is an air of smugness around him, trying to label himself as some sort of a hero. </p><p>Throwing up her fists, Peggy yells and charges, throwing James off guard. She pretends he’s one of the Gestapo, and all pretenses of being gentle vanish. She tries to punch his face, but he deflects it a bit slowly, a look of panic flashing in his eyes. Taking advantage of that fact, Peggy kicks his knees, making him lose his balance.</p><p>That’s when she attacks. Raising her leg, she kicks him harshly backward. James fumbles, falling to the ground, and she quickly climbs on top of him, caging his stomach and arms with her legs, putting her whole weight on his chest, and using the heel of her hand to force his chin back, exposing his throat. </p><p>Still in that position, she turns and looks at Commander Roberts for confirmation. He meets her eyes and nods, dumbstruck. Peggy gets up off of her assailant, extending a hand to let James up. </p><p>James ignores it and pushes himself up. Peggy rolls her eyes, turns around, and walks back to her place in the circle, an amazed grin stretching across her face. </p><p>“<em> Oh my god, </em> ” she mouths gleefully to Anna, “ <em> I beat him! </em>”</p><p>Anna shoots her a genuine smile, giving her a very proud motherish look. Carla claps her on her back wordlessly, and there is no way Peggy can keep the smile off her face. She meets Thomas’ eyes from across the circle, and he gives her a thumbs up. </p><p>Trying to tamp down her excitement, she smooths her hair back from her face and turns to face Commander Roberts again. </p><p>***</p><p>When it gets a bit dark, everyone is ordered to take a walk. Commander Roberts leads them and Peggy groans. Her squeaky camp bed is feeling very  inviting, but her breath catches when night actually falls. Because the open sky is beautiful. Littered with stars, the twinkling lights are packed together under a purple blanket. </p><p>She can understand why ancient myths stated the sky was a sheet with holes in it. This, Peggy thinks, is the real world. It's an empty, barren earth, with a natural beauty that blows her breath away. </p><p>Some day, she thinks. Some day, if she lives, she’ll come back here. </p><p>Low on the horizon, Peggy can see the constellation of scorpio, shining brightly. Peggy remembers her mother’s voice, back when she was very young, telling her the Greek myth of Artemis, Orion the hunter and the Scorpius sent to kill it. <em> Tell the humans their excessive arrogance will end up killing them. </em></p><p><em> Life is full of ups and downs, </em> her mother would say wistfully, while looking upward. <em> The Egyptians thought that death is not the end, and the scorpion represented the circle of life.  </em></p><p>
  <em> And unexpected death.  </em>
</p><p>Peggy’s throat tightens. </p><p>They march high up into the Scottish alps, Peggy distracted by all the stars, to find a small cottage. </p><p>Commander Roberts gives orders to spend the night in it, and then turns to walk in the other direction, back to the country house with no hesitation, leaving them to stand ineptly in a circle, looking blankly at each other’s faces.</p><p>Everyone turns to look at Anna, the eldest of all of the group. Peggy knows this is way out of everyone’s comfort zone.  </p><p>Anna takes the lead. She steps forward first, lightly kicking the door open. It's only a one room house, an old fireplace on one wall. </p><p>“Billy and James,” Anna says, and Peggy’s startles, because she had gotten so used to the quiet. “Please get us some wood, if there are any lying around. We’ll build up a fire.”</p><p>The room is dark, and no one’s able to see anything clearly, but she moves around, trying to find a candle or any matches. </p><p>She finds a matchbox on the windowsill, with only one old match inside of it. She doesn’t talk when she kneels in front of the fireplace, holding the match in front of her. </p><p>James comes and sits beside her, holding a few pieces of wood in his arms. Setting them in the fireplace, Peggy strikes a match and lights the fire. </p><p>The room is engulfed in light, everyone breathing a sigh of relief. Billy speaks up. “There are only three blankets and one bed.”</p><p>“We’ll split,” says Anna. “The boys can take two blankets, since there are four of you, and the girls can share one.”</p><p>“Who’ll take the bed?” James asks mildly. </p><p>“If you want it you can have it,” Anna jokes, but Thomas shakes his head. “We all have young bodies, Anna,” he says kindly, “you should take it.”</p><p>Anna looks touched, her eyes softening. </p><p>“Someone should take watch,” Richard says. With his broad shoulders, he looks unusually big in the small cottage. </p><p>“I’ll take first watch,” Carla whispers, her voice unusually wavering. Peggy turns to look at her and is shocked to see tears in her eyes. </p><p>They had never worked this well all together before. Usually it was James who was the alpha leader. The man himself was hugging himself in the corner, looking the same way Peggy felt; tired, cold, and hungry. </p><p>Everyone took their places, some in front of the fire, others near the walls. Peggy sits next to the fireplace, the bricks that line the area on her side. She takes her arms out of her sleeves, and wraps her jacket around her more securely. Carla comes to sit next to her, and they huddle together, keeping an eye on the window on the wall across from them. </p><p>There are no voices except for the sound of the flickering fire and the crickets croaking outside.</p><p>Peggy doesn’t know how long it’s been, the quietness of the area washing over her like a meditation hymn. She sits still, something she’s never done before, and just lets her thoughts run out of her head, until there is nothing there except the sound of the night. </p><p>“We lived in a house just like this one,” Carla whispers beside Peggy, when the moon has properly placed itself in the sky, her accent more clear. “Back in Poland, before… before everything. It was a small house, but it was home.”</p><p>Peggy doesn’t know what to say to that. </p><p>“I want to make them pay for it,” Carla croaks, and a tear races down her cheek. </p><p>“We’re here now,” Peggy murmurs, after a long bout of silence, trying to find the words to respond. “And as long as we are still standing, we have a fighting chance.”</p><p>Carla nods, and slowly drifts off then, putting her head on Peggy’s shoulder. Peggy lays her head on Carla’s and closes her eyes. </p><p>She wakes up the next morning with a crick in her neck and fleeting memories of a sunny future. No one else slept better. </p><p>Agent Kelly shows up in her army truck, all warm and clean, and takes them outside the cottage in the cold wind. Somehow, Scotland cannot forget the cold. But, Peggy supposed, it's better than training in the heat. </p><p>The air is chill and Peggy shivers, feeling absolutely gross in her old training uniform, the sweat and dirt still on her body. But the view is absolutely breathtaking. Green hills, wherever her eyes can see. It’s so simple and real, so different from the suburbs of where she grew up and the cities she was so familiar with. </p><p>If she was going to embarrass herself doing whatever they were going to do, in an environment she had no experience in, Peggy thinks wildly, at least she had a nice aesthetic background.</p><p>Alas, all they do is learn to disguise themselves in the grass, using the sloped ground to their advantage to hide. </p><p>Halfway through the day, everyone put their recently learned skills to the test. They get split up again. Peggy, James, Billy, and Thomas are in one group. James self assignes himself the leader, and they have to get inside a large building with a fake Nazi soldier patrolling the ground. They cannot be seen. </p><p>It's a wooden cabin, built on a sloping ground, ones the rich might go on vacations in, with scattered trees surrounding the building. </p><p>They all huddle behind huge boulders, trying to figure out their plan. The Gestapo officer goes around the small building, away from sight, so Peggy’s team has about twenty seconds of moving without being seen. </p><p>They quickly hash out a plan. Peggy and Billy go first, being the smallest of the group. Crawling on all fours and crouching in certain places, they make their way down the hill. Peggy hides behind a tree when the Gestapo officer comes around, her body frozen with fear. </p><p>Billy, however, is not so lucky, and gets spotted, quickly out. Peggy bites her lip in unease, because now she’s alone. And first. </p><p>She definitely doesn’t want to screw up. </p><p>She reaches the cabin before any of them, and then quickly notices that the rest of her team is also trying to reach her, hiding behind trees and the boulders. Thomas sends her a nod when she meets her eyes. Clenching her jaw, she tiptoes around the side of the house, watching the officer walk past the entrance door. The objective was to infiltrate the house, and the only way in was the short amount of time the officer went back around the cottage. </p><p>Looking back at her team, she guesses that if they don’t get spotted, they’ll be able to reach her in under two minutes. Glancing at her watch through, they don’t have that time. But then, along the wall, her fingers graze an uneven surface. </p><p>Her mouth falls open, and she wheels around, desperately wishing that her intuition was correct. And she is. A loose panel sits on the side of the house. It’s big enough to slip through, and she gets through, squeezing herself.</p><p>Inside the dark basement, with only a small lightbulb hanging from the cleaning, Commander Roberts stands in the basement with a timer.</p><p>“Good job, Miss Delsarte,” he says as he shakes Peggy’s hand. </p><p>Peggy’s very proud of herself when she responds. “Thank you, sir.” </p><p>James and Thomas come in a second later. Thomas slaps Peggy on her shoulder lightly and congratulates her, grinning.</p><p>Roberts tells them that they are the winning team. The other team didn’t move for a long time and lost their shot. </p><p>They get whiskey as a reward and Peggy savors the burn with her new friends. </p><p>***</p><p>Peggy stands, frozen, as she beholds a tall cliff in front of her. Nailed to the flats of the boulder are metal ladders, which they have to climb. </p><p>It’s freezing cold, and all of the recruits look at the ladders with open mouths as they rub the feeling back into their hands. </p><p>Commander Roberts claps his hands and says, “Who’s first?”</p><p>Some recruits can’t go more than a few feet up. Anna is able to scale the whole thing first, her body resilient to cold (crikey, Peggy thinks). And when the older woman comes back, she’s trembling from head to toe, but there is an ambitious smile on her face, sweat dripping from her forehead, chest heaving. </p><p>Peggy stands behind Billy, squinting up at the cliff and desperately questioning her life choices. While Billy climbs, Peggy stretches, moving her fingers and legs, adamant to not freeze up, adamant <em> not to fail </em> . She doesn’t know which she’s scared of more, getting halfway there and panicking in suspension, or not being able to even get past the first ladder. When it's her turn, she wraps her hands around the metal rod and immediately regrets it, because it’s <em> piercing </em> cold.</p><p>And of course, with her luck, it starts raining. Shivering, Peggy slowly starts making up the cliff.</p><p>Her arms and legs are burning, and her consciousness blocks out the encouragements coming from Carla and Anna. She focuses on putting one foot on top of the other, slowly and steadily. She doesn’t want to slip and fall to her death. When she thinks of death, she thinks of honorable death, and honestly, grandpappy might have been very disappointed in her if she didn’t give her best. So there. </p><p>With the rain chilling her bare fingers, Peggy hooks her legs on one of the rods and takes a break, trying to rub life back into her fingers. Huffing, she can see her breath in the air. </p><p>With a determined sigh, she tries to get moving again. Once she finishes the second ladder, she has to transfer onto the third one, a few feet to the right of her and two feet above the first one. </p><p>Slowly, she reaches for the first handle on the third ladder, ignoring the sharp cold pain pushing through her fingers. She gets her grip, the air deathly quiet as she goes on. Peggy bites her lips as her legs leave the second ladder, and tries to find balance on the uneven surface of the boulder. Her foot slips a bit- making Peggy’s heart drop miles below her stomach, but she’s able to finally still herself. </p><p>Like an idiot, Peggy looks directly up, at the ladders bolted into the boulder. It seems so drastic - the extreme height of the cliff, and she doesn’t know how much time has passed. The only thing she knows is this: she has to keep going. So, with the hope that she’ll live and faith in her abilities riding on her shoulders, Peggy hoists herself up, and keeps climbing. </p><p>When she reaches the top of the cliff, Peggy pulls herself up, fearful that she’ll fall over the side, and drags her body until she’s on solid ground. She hears the cheers of Anna and Thomas, and a smile flits over her features. She lays on her back, exhausted, and starts laughing, a bubbling of emotions. It's odd, the choice she made to come here. Peggy knows her parents would be throwing around words like reckless and ignorant in their heads. </p><p>But they’re not here. </p><p>And in an odd way, Peggy thinks wryly, she’s free.</p><p>***</p><p>Never mind, Peggy thinks, shivering, as she stands in front of the lake. Colonel Roberts stands in front of all of the recruits, and he clears his throat. “In front of you,” he says quite comfortably and warmly, “Is a lake. We are at the point where it is 30 meters wide, and 3 meters long, the shortest dimensions. It is about negative twelve degrees centigrade. Your task is to carry this log,” he points to a huge log layered with moss all around it, “across the lake. Who would like to go first?” </p><p>Peggy’s jaw wants to drop in surprise, but she’s too afraid of losing body heat. </p><p>Agent Kelly rolls her eyes and steps forward. “Before that, you should know that your body will be disabled for thirty seconds due to the cold when fully submerged. Don’t panic - just stay calm. <em> Now </em>, who first?”</p><p>All the boys go first, still in their uniforms, the water rising higher and higher, until they are clutching the log floating on the lake and pushing forward. </p><p>No one swam properly; it was way too cold. </p><p>Beside her, Carla and Anna start trembling, their fear apparent. She can see Commander Roberts give a pitying look to Colonel Harris, obviously aimed at the women. </p><p>Bloody hell. </p><p>She’d encourage Anna and Carla. If they needed a bit of encouragement, she’d go first. After all, an hour ago, she climbed a 50 meter-tall cliff. </p><p>Stepping forward, Peggy takes a deep breath, and steps forward. With a nod from Agent Kelly, and a look at the shivering agents in towels on the other side, Peggy steps into the water - boots and all. The cold seeps in when the water sloshes inside her boots, but Peggy keeps going, her hands lightly holding the log. When the water reaches her waist, her entire body freezes. She takes a deep breath and stays quite still until the feeling passes. When she feels like she can keep moving, she slowly starts picking up her feet and making sure her fingers are holding on to the log. The water up to her chest, Peggy starts humming the song Mumma used to sing for baby Mary in the sunny nursery room, the floor painted in yellow sunlight. The water up to her shoulders now, she starts frantically thinking about anything to keep her mind distracted. Her mind flits from the old, poor, Colonel friend she had made when she was six, to the time Michael broke his arm after falling from a tree, the other time when Nanna and Grandpappy frosted Christmas cookies with Peggy…</p><p>When her feet don’t touch the bottom of the lake anymore, she grabs the log floating over her shoulders like a lifeline and lightly kicks, too frozen to have any energy. Everything is piercing cold, but Peggy grits her teeth and keeps on kicking. She’s floating now, and the water is around her neck, feeling like frost was growing over her veins. When her feet touch the ground of the lake, she breathes a sigh of relief, and rejuvenated, she tries to walk faster, desperate to finish. </p><p>Slowly, the water disappears from her chest, leaving her entire body shaking to the chill of the light wind. Not anticipating to be any colder than she already was, Peggy starts to shiver uncontrollably, wheezing, half afraid of her body. Agent Kelly stands at the end, nodding at her, and holding a towel out for her to slip into. Peggy moves forward and tries to distract her mind with anything,<em> anything </em> she could think of instead of the numbing physical pain. </p><p>But the agony felt familiar, the iciness wrapping around her body reminding her that loss can materialize in a concrete sense.</p><p>The water reaches her knees and Peggy sobs with relief, stumbling a few steps forward. Her numb hands let go from the log and tries to clutch the towel. She sputters water out of her mouth and sinks down on a rock, breathing heavily. </p><p><em> You had to push through, no matter the conditions, </em> Peggy understands. <em> How the war would turn out would rest on their ability to prevail against all odds.  </em></p><p>***</p><p>Once the S.O.E. training is over, and they’ve gone to finishing school, learning how to pick a lock, getting out of handcuffs with a wire and a pencil, spending time relearning morse code so that she could learn how to operate the wireless, and having simple medical training, she’s finally <em> officially in </em>. </p><p>It is also the day that they are allowed to phone back home on a secure line. Agent Kelly stands in the room as they make the calls. </p><p>Peggy stands with the hands clutched tightly around the receiver, hoping her mother picks up and that she still cared.  She hears the line ring, ring, and then;</p><p>“<em> Hello? </em>”</p><p>Peggy almost sobs. “Mum. Mummy, it’s me, Peggy?”</p><p>Her mother gasps. “Margaret,<em> oh love, </em> where are you?”</p><p>“The S.O.E. The organization that recruited me. Remember, mum?” She breathes through her mouth, tears stinging her face already. “I decided I would join after all.”</p><p>“Come home, Peggy,” Her mother begs her, her familiar voice crackling over the receiver. “Come home, and we can talk about all this.”</p><p>“I can’t, mum. I’m so sorry.” Peggy takes a breath of air. “Michael recommended me, actually. He thought I could do it, and I did. I’m in. And I don’t think I can go back.”</p><p>The line is silent for a while, and Peggy wonders if her mother had hung up on her in anger. </p><p>“Mumma?”</p><p>“I’m here,” her mother says, sounding horribly as though she had been crying. “I didn’t go anywhere. I’m right here.”</p><p>“Are you mad at me?” Peggy asks, feeling so hopelessly childish. In the corner of her eyes, she notices that she only has a minute left from the clock hanging on the wall.</p><p>“No, no. I’m not mad.” Her mother sniffles. “Just... we’ll talk when you come back home. <em> Whenever </em> you come back home. Hear me, Margaret? You have to come home. I’m not losing one more child. I cannot bear it.”</p><p>“Alright.” Peggy doesn’t promise her though. She knows the chances of her keeping it would be low.</p><p>She glances at the clock, time’s running out. “Listen, mum, I have to go. I’ll try to call you again, the moment I’m allowed, okay? Bye. Give Mary my love.”</p><p>Her mother starts crying through the phone. “I will. Bye, my love. Remember, you have a home. Don’t run from it. We love you.”</p><p>The phone clicks. And that’s that. </p><p>***</p><p>They are sitting in the dining room, trying to have some sort of resemblance to dinner. The cook, Mrs. Keating was doing the best she could with the limited supplies she had, but… still. </p><p>Peggy’s spoon moves around in her bowl of soup - trying to muck up the courage to take a couple of more bites. Her hand, though, moves toward the bread, and she tries to soak up the clumpy soup with the bread in the hopes that the two bland flavors would cancel each other out. </p><p>It doesn’t work. Instead, she focuses on watching  Thomas try to win an arm wrestling match against Anna. The image of a young sweating Thomas and Anna’s gray hair completely mussed is enough to make Peggy laugh.</p><p>“Are you even trying, young man?” Anna challenges, when Thomas wheezes and seems to be staggering under Anna’s strength. </p><p>Thomas tries to get a word out, but fails, his face turning completely red. In a burst of strength, he farts loudly.</p><p>“Thomas!” Anna admonishes.  </p><p>Peggy immediately starts giggling, and Thomas not long after her. Even Carla cracks a smile, even though it's hidden behind her tea cup. Everyone else is focusing on their food, grimacing and making small talk, but Peggy creates a bubble of a world just for the four of them.</p><p>Just then, two men walk into the dining room, their heavy boots stomping on the ground like gunshots, yanking the room to a complete silence. The carefree mood completely vanishes, leaving a whisper of dread in its wake. Mrs. Keating pushes in behind them, still wearing her apron. “There!” she cries, pointing a shaking hand to Peggy. “She’s the one!”</p><p>Peggy’s blood drains from her face. <em> What did she do? </em> The two men slam her face into the table, her cheek taking the brunt of the force. Horrified, she meets Thomas’ eyes across the table, her hands currently being handcuffed behind her back. They yank her from her chair, and drag her from the room, down some stairs, to what Peggy assumes is the basement. She stumbles as they violently shove her in a dimly lit office, with no windows. A singular table sits in the middle of the room, on which lay her smuggled science journals. </p><p>She stands shivering and confused, as the two men roughly uncuff her and leave her all alone in the room. The cold is biting and Peggy’s only wearing a half-sleeved button down, with light pants and some boots. </p><p>
  <em> Was she not allowed to read them? Did she break the rules?  </em>
</p><p>Commander Roberts comes into the room then, walking loudly and wearing a fake beard… with a red strap around his arm. </p><p>She swallows. This was a test, then. </p><p>“I.D?” He roughly calls to Peggy, holding out his hand. Peggy fumbles for her papers in her pocket, and hands it to the Commander. </p><p>“Name?” he asks shortly. </p><p>“Madeline Delsarte,” she answers quickly, keyed up. She had crafted her background story carefully over the days, pulling layers of her own life in. <em> She could do this. </em></p><p>“Parent’s name?”</p><p>“Hugh and Sarah Delsarte.”</p><p>“Birthdate?”</p><p>“April 28, 1921.”</p><p>He folds her papers and shoves it back to Peggy.</p><p>“Do you know why you are here, Miss Delsarte?”</p><p>Peggy stands still. “No,” she says in a quiet voice. </p><p>“<em> Are you stupid? </em>” he yells, and Peggy flinches violently away from him. </p><p>“Please,” she begs, “I don’t know what you are talking about!”</p><p>“These aren’t yours, are they?” He points a meaty finger at her journals, his face glowering with rage. Peggy’s heart beats louder than ever, and she can barely hear her own thoughts over it as she whispers, “No, sir.”</p><p>“<em> What did you say? </em>”  </p><p>Peggy speaks up, “No, sir, they aren’t mine,” her voice wavering horrifically.</p><p>“YOU LIE! THEY WERE UNDER YOUR BED!” Commander Roberts’ spit flies out of his mouth, hitting Peggy in the face. She leans away from him automatically, blinking rapidly when one of his… fluids hits her in the eye. </p><p>“<em> No, they aren’t mine </em> ,” Peggy cries, as Roberts yells nastily, “Guards! Get her to <em> start talking! </em>”</p><p>The two men from before take her from the room and drag her down more steps into a small cellar. The lights are on, emitting the room with a muted yellowish tint, the shadows on the floor growing taller the closer she gets, and she can see a bucket of water on the floor. Her eyes widen, and automatically, her feet drag on the floor to slow the process. The two men are stronger though, and they overpower her. </p><p><em> Are they truly going to go through with this?!, </em> Peggy thinks wildly as she is forced to her knees in front of the bucket. </p><p>One guard grabs her by the hair, before she could even try to overpower them. They pin down her legs, and Peggy has a split second of trying to catch her breath before she is submerged underwater. </p><p>She holds her breath for as long as she can, but her beating heart demands more air. Bubbles escape her nose, and her throat burns… but she still stays underwater. Her body flails, trying to get back up, but her efforts prove fruitless. </p><p>In all of the mystery novels she’d read when she was younger, whenever the hero would get waterboarded, they would always stay still to give the assumption that they were dead. When the bad guys would release their grip, they would pounce. </p><p>But Peggy can’t do that right now. Her body is screaming for air, and it feels she’ll die.</p><p>
  <em> She doesn’t want to die. </em>
</p><p>She’s yanked upward, and she’s able to take deep breaths of air that quench her thirst. </p><p>“What’s your name?” One man asks rudely, but Peggy’s too busy taking deep breaths of air to answer. </p><p>He roughly shakes her, and only then does she gasp out, “Madeline! Madeline Del-”</p><p>And down she goes again.</p><p>This time, she isn’t given any time to take a deep breath of air. The lack of air burns through her body, and she thrashes wildly, trying to hit. She can’t even think, with the bodies of the men holding her body down, and her head under water, her feet squirming on the cold stone floor. Everything is muted, and Peggy can’t think. Her brain just screams for air. </p><p>She’s lifted up again, and she takes deep gulping breaths through her mouth. “<em> What is your name? </em>” she’s asked again, but can’t answer, too busy drinking in the air.</p><p>So down she goes again, the color of the water more darker, more ominous. If she goes down again, Peggy doesn’t know if she’ll come back up alive.</p><p>It's a strange experience, with trepidation the only thing keeping her alive. She’s put in the water multiple times, and it's a type of baptism, washing away the useless parts of her, keeping only which will keep her alive.</p><p>Which will help her <em> survive </em>. </p><p>The hymns are sung by the two men, who try to break her, who try to tell her what’s coming. In her head, they tell her that her sins are going to come, that there will be blood on her hands. They tell her of the life she’ll lead if she goes through this.  </p><p>When she comes up again for the last time, she’s a different person, cremated with the dirty, cold water, stripping away at everything that she thought she knew about the world, telling her nothing was what it seemed like. And the only way to withstand the pain was to tighten her resolve.</p><p>They pull her up again by her hair, and Peggy’s entire body is tense against the strain, her lungs grateful as she’s given clean air, water streaming down her face. </p><p>“She’s not talking,” Peggy faintly hears, “Take her to the cell. And put a bullet through her head by morning.”</p><p>Peggy is lifted roughly off the ground, and<em> bloody nora </em>, because her knees hurt like hell after being pressed into the ground. </p><p>The only thing her conscious remembers is that she needs to survive. She needs to keep breathing and she needs to escape. </p><p>In her head, Peggy Carter doesn’t exist. Madeline Delsarte is the only one that matters. </p><p>She gets thrown into another room, and Peggy spends a few minutes on her hands and knees on the cool cement, catching her breath, raggedy gasps coming out of her body. Water drops off her face and onto the ground in splats and she feels like a wet dog. </p><p>She crawls to a wall and leans her back on it, trying to gather her wits, her entire energy snapped out of her bones, her head spinning, the ground tilting underneath her. </p><p>She sits like that for a long time, her arms on her knees, wondering what the hell happened. The cement behind is hard and unforgivingly frigid, denying her of any comfort.</p><p>She feels dizzy somehow, even by sitting down, and she closes her eyes, so tired. </p><p>A tear slips out. She desperately wants her Nanna. </p><p>She misses the comfort of home. She misses the familiarity of home, with the weird waft of cumin and butter coming from the kitchen. </p><p>If she squeezes her eyes tight, she can imagine her grandmother’s tight hugs, holding her in frail arms, the same ones that wiped her tears away, the same ones that held on tightly even as she was falling. She can still smell the unique smells of her cardigan. </p><p>All Peggy has now are empty bitter hands, filled with only fading memories, some that get washed away with time. </p><p>Inside, though, it doesn’t make sense that Nanna is dead. Peggy’s been to the funeral, and she’s felt the emptiness hit her like a truck… but.</p><p>Her Nanna was always solid, a being, one that was always present. She was never in the background of anything, but at the forefront with her presence. </p><p>That landscape was now dim with <em> so much blood.  </em></p><p>And all that light she held, all the goodness in her arms, all the sincerity and intelligence was snapped away by broken bricks and beams. </p><p>Tears are flowing down her cheeks freely now, and she can’t breathe again. Cries rip from her throat, and she holds herself as she rocks back and forth, crying, feeling incredibly bare with the loss of her shield; Nanna and Michael. And if she doesn’t act, her country too. </p><p>She reminds herself why she’s here. Her family’s lives rest on her shoulders. Tucking strands of wet hair behind her ears, she wonders if Michael felt the same. If he died with the world on his shoulders, the same pressure to win, all this stress weighing down as he took his last breath. </p><p>She can’t fail now. Michael’s flag is settled in her arms, something in her silently stubborn presence calling on her inner strength to rise up and lend her shoulders for her country. Peggy shakes herself out of her stupor and tightens her resolve. Rubbing her hands together to warm up, she examines the room. It’s a small rectangular cell, a door on opposite sides. There is a small light flickering near one door, bathing the area in a haunted glow.</p><p>The other wall has a small window, too narrow to try and fit her body through. Next to it is a door that Peggy reckons will take her outside. </p><p>
  <em> Take her to the cell. And put a bullet through her head by morning. </em>
</p><p>If this is a test, and if she doesn’t escape by morning, she’s done. Peggy has no doubt about that. </p><p>So she moves toward the door that’ll take her outside, which as expected, is locked. Peggy bites her lip, her hands moving to the top of her head to check for any pins in her hair, but her efforts fall short, because her locks are tied in a loose ponytail.</p><p>Peggy leans back on her heels and thinks, but it's too hard, with the headache pounding at her temples. There has to be a way out. She reties her ponytail tightly, pulling all the wet wisps to the back and surveys the room, her hands on her hips, frustration taking the reins of her cognition. There has to be anything, a spare key hidden or a false door. But the room is completely empty, with no indication of a false door.</p><p>Peggy crosses the room to the window. There is nothing.</p><p>With a resounding sigh, her eyes dim at the darkness outside. </p><p>This was pathetic. Feeling like she was going to throw up, she circles the room again, trying to think. She stumbles as she does a circuit of the room, her coordination slipping, her eyes dropping with exhaustion. Her back hitting the wall, Peggy slides down to the ground and closes her eyes.</p><p>She’ll take a nap for a second. Just to close her eyes… and… recharge. Yeah… recharge.</p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>Her eyes snap back open in a flurry of panic. Her eyes go to her watch, which currently reads two in morning. Panic settles in her chest, because she doesn’t know for how long she’s been out for. Scrambling up from the floor, frustration builds in her throat as she circles the room again. </p><p>In the back of her mind, she remembers being taught how to construct a makeshift key with only a bicycle wire. If she can find a thin wire…</p><p>Her fingers trace the borders of the door, trying to find a hidden wire, or a broken edging that she can use. </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>Peggy stops in the middle of the room, tilting her head to the heavens, and takes a deep breath, trying to quell her nerves. Her gaze flickers to the window, because that’s the only way out. There is no other option. </p><p>But the window is really small, so she can’t break it. And she didn’t have anything to break it with either. </p><p>And then, her eyes catch on the border of the window on the inside. Taking her nail, her useless wedding manicure almost gone, she slowly peels off a thin wire, long enough for her to make use of it.</p><p>Brilliant. </p><p>Twisting the wire in the way Agent Kelly taught them, she fits it in the lock of the door and jiggles it. </p><p>It takes a few tries, a few readjusting of the wire, but her heart is hammering and her stomach churning. </p><p><em> She cannot fail, </em>Peggy repeats to herself.</p><p>By some miracle, the lock clicks, and the wire turns.</p><p>And the door opens. </p><p>It's colder outside, and Peggy shivers, feeling like she was going to violently throw up any second, but she’s in a better position to survive outside than inside. Because at least she has options to run or hide, rather than being stuck in that room. </p><p>Peggy knows she’s behind the country house, and if she tries hard enough, she can make out the forest beyond the grassy area the house is located in. </p><p>And then Peggy hears footsteps. The moon is the only light in the dark environment, giving Peggy an advantage. She presses herself against the wall in one of the shadows from the trees, trying to make herself smaller.</p><p>Peeking out of her huddle, she watches as one of the guards with the red strap cuts across from her, his eyes on the empty space out in the countryside, walking.</p><p>Of course there were guards circling the perimeter. Peggy rolls her eyes. The safer option would go in the direction the guards weren’t looking. </p><p>She cranes her neck upward to the terrace, pursing her lips.</p><p>Thoroughly annoyed now, and wanting this test to be over so she could go to sleep, Peggy rubs her hands, and puts it on the brick wall. Glancing to make sure no guard was in sight, she begins to climb. </p><p>It is much harder. Her muscles are screaming in pain, and she loses her grip on one of the bricks once or twice, almost slipping to her death. Yet, there is something trying to keep her alive, she reckons, burgeoning under her skin, the iron from the universe’s stars. </p><p>Although right now, there is a rush pouring through her body, and she’s determined. <em> Fight or flight </em>, her body thinks. </p><p><em> Fight, </em> Peggy chooses. </p><p>She scales the wall, the protruding bricks helping her. Her hands reach the top and she heaves herself over with her built strength, rolling on the terrace, her back to the flat surface, her face to the stars, her fate written up there. The brightest star of Scorpio, Peggy finds, winks down at her. </p><p>A smile flits across her features. </p><p>The click-clacking of heels makes Peggy turn her head to the side. Vera Atkins is walking toward her. She extends a hand to let her up, and Peggy takes it. </p><p>Peggy dusts herself off, and stands at attention, her back ramrod straight, her hands clasped behind her back. </p><p>Miss Atkins’ eyes crinkle as she grins, delight flickering in her eyes. “Congratulations,<em> Agent Carter </em>.”</p><p>***</p><p>A few more practical tests, one parachuting lesson, and more weapons training later, they get their uniforms. Peggy smiles as she carefully pins up her hair, nerves flying through the roof.</p><p>For all the pain and death Peggy wagers was going to come, this was exciting. She distinctly remembers Michael putting on his army uniform, carefully pressed. She was giggling at him, over all the fear of letting him go, because he looked ridiculous. </p><p>But as she carefully buttons on her crisp white shirt, tie up, pencil in her stockings, puts on her skirt and puts on the jacket, she spends a few minutes staring at herself in the mirror. </p><p>A few weeks ago, she would have been felt out of place. </p><p>But her uniform gives her determination. She made it. All she has to do now, is liberate France.  </p><p>When everyone has dressed, they all group back downstairs in the parlor room, everyone excitedly talking over each other.</p><p>Thomas awkwardly comes to stand next to her, and they lean on the wall, watching Anna arm wrestle Richard for a chance. </p><p>“Are you ready?” Thomas asks her quietly. </p><p>“Ready?” Peggy shoots back, “No, I’m scared out of my <em> bloody mind </em>.” She pauses, Anna raising her arms in victory. “But then again, who is completely ready?”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t get to respond, because at that moment, Commander Roberts and Agent Kelly walk in. Everyone stands up, backs ramrod straight, at full attention in a line.</p><p>“Congratulations to all of you for getting to this stage.” Roberts coughs, and continues. “Behind that door, Miss Atkins and Colonel Harris will give you your assignments. You will leave within the week, and we hope you will be victorious in your missions. Good luck.”</p><p>Peggy frowns. That was <em> very </em> anticlimactic of them.</p><p>Agent Kelly steps forward. “Miss Bain. You’re up first.” </p><p>Peggy just steels her gaze and looks forward. Commander Roberts starts talking quietly with Billy and James, at times, laughing at small jokes. </p><p>Peggy doesn’t know what to expect- which town she has to go to in a few days, what she has to accomplish- <em> how </em> she’ll accomplish it. But, there is an odd sense of everything coming back in a full circle, that she’ll die on the same land her Grandpappy grew up in and left. </p><p>Robert’s boisterous voice cuts into her thoughts rudely. He seems a bit chirper, probably because they all aren’t recruits anymore. “You all look <em> brilliant </em> in your uniforms, I’d say!”</p><p>Peggy manages not to roll her eyes.</p><p>“You all have been brilliant,” Roberts rambles on, “It was my pleasure teaching you all.” He directs that at James mostly. </p><p>Peggy, however, feels like throwing up. Her fate lies in whatever is behind those doors, crossing the threshold in the hero’s journey. </p><p>“Ey Madeline,” James hoots, when conversations have started again, and the environment has relaxed a tad bit, “When this is all over, you and me? Eh? What do you think?”</p><p>Peggy’s brain melts and she turns to face him, squinting at his face in a way she really hopes is humiliating for him. How <em> dare </em> he degrade her. “Is there something wrong with you?” she inquires, almost casually, but her eyes flash, and James shrinks. </p><p>And then Agent Kelly calls her name. </p><p>***</p><p>Peggy knocks on Vera Atkins’ door a few days later. She’s more confident than she ever was a few weeks ago, standing straight, with her hands calmly clasped behind her. </p><p>“Come in,” says the muffled voice. </p><p>Peggy pushes open the heavy door, and steps in. Vera Atkins, still engrossed in her work, points to the chair across from her, and says, “Yes?”</p><p>Peggy steps fully inside the small office, and settles into the chair. “Miss Atkins,” she begins, and Vera looks up, putting her pen down. “Miss Atkins,” she says again, calmly, an already rehearsed speech in her head, “I needed to talk to you about a personal matter.” She pauses. “My real name is Carter - Do you know Herbert Carter? The politician?”</p><p>Atkins nods. </p><p>“He’s a distant cousin. All of the people on my fathers side have one hand in something or the other - mostly in the public's eyes.”</p><p>She pauses, half for dramatic effect, and half for Vera Atkins to catch up, and settles back in her chair. Atkins gestures for Peggy to go on. </p><p>“My father’s family are influential people in government, but my father,” her voice drops down to a whisper, “Is an MI6 agent. I’m not privy to all he does, but I know he is one of the senior… ones. My fear is that, if I get sent to missions, that I may get recognized, and become a reliable insider for the Nazis.”</p><p>Vera Atkins frowns and rubs her forehead. “I don’t know-”</p><p>Peggy cuts in, arching her eyebrow. “So, I thought you might want to <em> kill me </em>.”</p><p>There is a mischievous glint that arises in Atkins' eyes just then, one that Peggy can find from years of experience of looking into the mirror at her own self. </p><p>“Go on, then.”</p><p>Peggy takes a deep breath. “You could fake my death.” She bites her lip, thinking off the top of her head. “Maybe I died at a training incident or something. That’ll put a lot of nosy people at home at rest. And we can print an obituary in the newspaper, so it's on some type of record. So, if I was to go on a mission, I’d technically be dead, and no one would know.”</p><p>Peggy finishes her speech with a flourish of her hand, and collapses into silence. </p><p>Atkins rests her chin on her palm, thinking loudly. “Yeah, that could work,” she muses. “Alright. I’ll take care of it- erm- I’ll find a photographer tomorrow, and we can click your picture. And on official reports, we’ll give you a new name.”</p><p>Peggy nods, a smile on her features, and relief breaking out. She gets out of the chair, and reaches to open the door when Atkins interrupts her. </p><p>“And Agent Carter,” she says, her brow furrowed under stress, “Wear a bit of makeup. You’ll want to look different, so you won’t be recognized on the field.”</p><p>Peggy shoots Vera Atkins a kind smile, and sees herself out.</p><p>***</p><p>The next day <em> Agent Carter </em>, thank you very much, stands in front of the dinky mirror in one of  the small bathrooms downstairs, wearing her new uniform. Carla stands beside her, applying her own makeup the next mirror over. The only good thing about this bathroom was that the lighting was amazing. Peggy awkwardly rubs Pond’s cream on her forehead, all the while staring at Carla apply her lipstick, a nice dark red color that makes Peggy yearn for it. </p><p>Carla catches her staring and smiles. “Apparently,” she says, still applying her lipstick, “Hitler hates when women wear red lipstick.” She smacks her lips and closes her lipstick tube with a satisfying click. </p><p>She reaches into her purse and pulls out another tube. “Want one?”</p><p>Peggy smiles and reads the color of the lipstick. <em> Victory Red. </em></p><p>Twenty minutes later, she descends the stairs of the house to the drawing room, where the photographer is set up, next to whom Vera Atkins stands.</p><p>Peggy’s eyelids have a brownish tint to them, courtesy of creative fingers rubbing eyeliner around. She took care of shaping her eyebrows and putting on some blush. Her hair is set in waves, the newest style, but the biggest look is the dark red lipstick. Peggy looks more put together than she has in her entire life.</p><p>She sits on the stool, the confidence in herself overflowing. Turning her neck to the camera, her eyebrow arches a bit, and the photographer clicks his camera.</p><p>
  <em> CLICK! </em>
</p><p>And when those newspapers are passed out, and Margaret Elizabeth Carter is pronounced dead, Agent Carter gets her new code name.</p><p>Agent 13. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay- as a reminder; Vera Atkins and General Buckmaster are actually real people! Even though I wrote about them in a fanfic (based on my made-up interpretation of them), they are actual people and I want to give a bit of respect to them. </p><p>I used: 'Churchill's Secret Agents: New Recruits' on Netflix as a guide on what happened in the SOE. Its really interesting - I suggest giving it a watch, or as a visual guide afterwords :))</p><p>I also based Vera Atkin's portrayal of her on the movie: 'A Call to Spy.' I also suggest giving that a watch too- its about actual women in the SOE. </p><p>Lastly, this fic is not historically accurate - I did all the research I could but I could get some things wrong, or changed them up to benefit the story :))</p><p>Thanks for reading, and if you liked it - do leave a comment!:))))</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on tumblr and say hi! (young-powerpuffgirl.tumblr.com)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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